(^)      ^L^         ^t^-^ 


Sfrattk  A.  Harke 


SUMMER    DAYS    IN 
SHAKESPEARE    LAND 


WORKS  BY  CHARLES  G.  HARPER 


The  Portsmouth  Road,  and  its  Tributaries :  To-day  and  in 

Days  of  Old. 
The  Dover  Road  :  Annals  of  an  Ancient  Turnpike. 
The  Bath  Road  :  History,  Fashion,  and  Frivolity  on  an  Old 

]  Highway. 
The    Exeter    Road:    The    Story   of    the    West   of    Englantl 

Highway. 
The  Great  North  Road:   The  Old  Mail  Koad  to  Scotland. 

Two  \'ols. 
The  Norwich  Road  :  An  East  Anglian  Highway. 
The    Holyhead    Road :   The   Mail-Coach    Road   to   Dublin. 

Twt)  Vols. 
The  Cambridge,  Ely,  and  King's  Lynn  Road:  The  Great 

Fenland  Highway. 
The    Newmarket,    Bury,    Thetford,    and   Cromer    Road : 

Sport  and   History  on  an   East  Anglian  Turnpike. 
The  Oxford,  Gloucester,  and  Milford  Haven  R:ad  :  The 

Ready  Way  to  South  Wales.     Two  Vols. 
The    Brighton    Road :    Speed,   Sport,    and    History   on   the 

Classic   Highway. 
The  Hastings  Road  and  the  "  Happy  Springs  of  Tunbridge." 
Cycle  Rides  Round  London. 
A  Practical  HandbSok  of  Drawing  for  Modern  Methods 

of  Reproduction. 
Stage-Coach  and  Mail  in  Days  of  Yore.     Two  Vols. 
The    Ingoldsby    Country:    Literary    Landmarks    of    "The 

Ingoldsby  Legends.'' 
The    Hardy   Country :    Literary  Landmarks  of  the  Wessex 

Novels. 
The  Dorset  Coast. 
The  South  Devon  Coast. 
The  Old  Inns  of  England.     Two  \'oIs. 
Love  in  the  Harbour  :  a  Longshore  Comedy. 
Rural  Nooks  Round  London  (Middlesex  and  Surrey). 
Haunted  Houses:  Tales  of  the  Supernatural. 
The  Manchester  and  Glasgow  Road.     This  Way  to  Gretna 

Green.     Two  \'ols. 

The  North  Devon  Coast. 

Half-Hours  with  the  Highwaymen.     Two  Vols. 

The  Autocar  Road  Book. 

The  Somerset  Coast. 

The  Cornish  Coast.     North. 

The  Cornish  Coast.     South. 

Thames  Valley  Villages.     Two  Vols. 

The  Kentish  Coast  1     ,     ,7     ^ 

In  /he  Pi  ess. 
The  Sussex  Coast  ) 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN 
SHAKESPEARE    LAND 

SOME  DELIGHTS  OF  THE  ANCIENT  TOWN  OF 
STRATFORD-UPON-AVON  AND  THE  COUNTRY  ROUND 
ABOUT;  TOGETHER  WITH  A  SKETCH  OF  THE  LIFE 
OF    MR.  WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE 

IN  WHICH  MANY  THINGS  BOTH  NEW  AND  ENTER- 
TAINING ARE  TO  BE  FOUND,  PRETTILY  SET  FORTH 
FOR  THE  PLEASURE  OF  THE  GENTLE  READER  ;  AND 
WHEREIN  CERTAIN  FANATICS  ARE  HANDSOMELY 
CONFUTED 

WRITTEN   BY   CHARLES    G.    HARPER,  and 

FOR  THE    MOST  PART  ALSO    ILLUSTRATED   BY   HIM 

WITH    A    PEN 

OTHER    ILLUSTRATIONS   ARE    FROM    PHOTOGRAPHS 


New  York 

JAMES    POTT  &   COMPANY 

London:  CHAPMAN    &    HALL,   Ltd. 

1913 


RirnAKD  Ci.AY  &  Sons,  Limited, 

BRUNSWICK    STREET,    STAMKORD   STREET,    S.E., 
AND   BUNGAY,    SUFFOLK. 


■^'^'^  '-ymTTr^      "LIBRARy 


PREFACE 

By  "  Shakespeare  Land,"  as  used  in  these  pages, 
Stratford-on-Avon  and  the  country  within  a  radius  of 
from  twelve  to  twenty  miles  are  meant;  comprising 
parts  of  Warwickshire  and  Gloucestershire,  and  some 
portions  of  Worcestershire  which  are  mentioned  by 
Shakespeare,  or  must  have  been  familiar  to  him.  So 
many  thousands  annually  visit  Stratford-on-Avon  that 
the  town,  and  in  some  lesser  degree  the  surrounding 
country,  are  thought  to  be  hackneyed  and  spoilt  for  the 
more  intellectual  and  leisured  visitor;  but  that  is  very 
far  from  being  the  case.  Apart  from  such  acknowledged 
centres  of  Shakespearean  interest  as  the  Birthplace  at 
Stratford-on-Avon,  the  parish  church,  and  Anne  Hatha- 
way's  Cottage  at  Shottery;  and  excepting  such  great 
show-places  as  Kenilworth  and  Warwick  castles,  Shake- 
speare Land  is  by  no  means  overrun,  and  is  in  every  way 
charming  and  satisfying.  Stratford  town  itself,  the 
very  centre  of  interest,  is  unspoiled ;  and  the  enterprise 
of  the  majority  of  Shakespearean  pilgrims  is  of  such  a 
poor  quality,  and  their  intellectual  requirements  as  a 
rule  so  soon  satisfied,  that  the  real  beauties  of  the 
Warwickshire  villages  and  the  towns  and  villages  of 
the  Cotswolds  are  to  them  a  sealed  book.  Except  these 
byways  be  explored,  such  an  essential  side  of  Shake- 
speare as  that  I  have  touched  upon  in  the  chapter 
"  Shakespeare  the  Countryman  "  will  be  little  under- 
stood. 


PREFACE 

It  is  thus  entirely  a  mistaken  idea  to  think  the  Shake- 
speare Country  overdone.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  much  less 
known  than  it  ought  to  be,  and  Avould  be,  were  it  in  any 
other  land  than  our  own.  And  Stratford  itself  has  not 
done  so  much  as  might  have  been  expected  in  exploiting 
possible  Shakespearean  interest.  Ancient  house-fronts 
that  the  poet  must  have  known  still  await  the  removal 
of  the  plaster  which  for  two  centuries  or  more  has 
covered  them;  and  the  Corporation  archives  have  not 
yet  been  thoroughly  explored. 

Incidentally  these  pages  may  serve  to  expose  some  of 
the  Baconian  heresies.  If  there  be  many  whose  judg- 
ment is  overborne  by  the  tub-thumping  of  the  Baconians, 
let  them  turn  to  some  of  the  extravagances  of  Donnelly 
and  others  mentioned  here,  and  then  note  the  many 
local  allusions  which  Shakespeare  and  none  other  could 
have  written. 

The  Bacon  controversy,  which  since  1857  has  offered 
considerable  employment  for  speculative  minds,  and  is 
still  in  progress,  is  now  responsible  for  some  six  hundred 
books  and  pamphlets,  monuments  of  perverted  ingenu- 
ity and  industrious  research  misapplied ;  of  evidence 
misunderstood,  and  of  judgment  biassed  by  a  clearly 
proclaimed  intention  to  place  Bacon  where  Shakespeare 
stands.  These  exceedingly  well-read  gentlemen,  profited 
in  strange  concealments,  have  produced  a  deal  of  skimble- 
skamble  stuff  that  galls  our  good  humours.  The  veriest 
antics,  they  at  first  amuse  us,  but  in  a  longer  acquaint- 
ance they  are,  as  Hotspur  says  of  Glendower,  "  as 
tedious  as  a  tired  horse,  a  railing  wife ;  Worse  than  a 
smoky  house." 

This  is  no  place  to  fully  enter  the  discussion,  but  we 
may  here  note  the  opinion  of  Harvey,  the  great  con- 
temporary man  of  science,  on  Bacon,  the  amateur  of 
science.     "  My  Lord  Chancellor,"  he  said,  "  writes  about 

vi 


PREFACE 

Science  like  a  Lord  Chancellor."  Any  one  who  reads 
Bacon's  poetry  will  notice  that  the  poets  might  have 
applied  the  same  taunt  to  his  lines. 

Vet  they  tell  us  now,  these  strange  folk,  eager  for  a 
little  cheap  notoriety,  not  only  that  "  Bacon  wrote 
the  Greene,  Marlowe,  and  Shakespeare  plays,"  but 
that  his  is  the  pen  that  gives  the  Authorised  Version  of 
the  Bible  its  literary  grace.  Well,  well.  They  say  the 
owl  was  a  baker's  daughter;    a  document  in  madness. 

Charles  G.  Harper. 

Ealing,  August  24,  1912. 


vn 


CONTENTS 


I'AGE 


^Chaptkr  I  .........  1 

~~  The  Begiuiiing's  of  Stratford-oii-Avon. 

Chapter  II         ........         6 

The  Sliake.>^])eares  —  .Fohu  Shakespeare,  Ghn-er,  Wool- 
merchant — Birtli  of  A\^illiam  Shakespeare — Rise  and  Decline 
of  John  Sliakespeare — Early  Marriage  of  William. 

Chapter  III 12 

Anne  Hathaway,  Sliakespeare's  briile — The  hasty  marriage — 
Sliakespeare's  ^vild  young  days — He  leaves  for  London — 
(irendon  rnderwood. 

Chapter  IV 22 

Continued    decline  in   the  affairs  of  John    Sliakespeare — 

A\'illiam     Sliakespeare's     success     in    London  —  Death    of 

Hamnet,  ^Villiam  Shakespeare's  only  son  —  Shakespeare 
buys  New  Place — He  retires  to  Stratford — Writes  his  last 
play.  The  Tempest — His  <leath. 

Chapter  V 34 

Stratford-on-Avon — It  has  its  own  life,  ijuite  apart  from 
Shakespearean  associations — Its  people  and  its  streets — 
Sliakespeare  Memorials. 

(Chapter  VI         ........       49 

Sliakespeare's  Birthplace  —  Restoration,  of  sorts  —  The 
Imsiness  of  the  Showman — Tlie  Birthplace  Museum — The 
Sliakespearean  (iarden. 

ix 


CONTENTS 


l'Ai:i'; 


Chai'teu  mi 60 

Clmirli  Street — The  "Castle"  inn — Tlie  Giiikl  Chapel, 
Guild  Hall,  and  Grammar  School — New  Place. 

Chaptkr  Vm     ........       75 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Stratford-on-Avon. 

Chai'ter  IX        ........       85 

llie  Church  of  tlie  Holy  Trinity,  Stratford-ou-Avon 
{(•nntinufd) — 'i'he  Shakespeare  graAe  and  monument. 

Chai'tki{  X 92 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Stratford-on-Avou 
{concluded) — The  Shakespeare  grave  and  monument — The 
Miserere  Seats. 

CHAl-lKlt    XI 101 

Shottery  and  Anne  Hatha^vay'.s  Cottage. 

Chapter  XII 114 

Charlecote. 

Chapter  XIII 127 

Shakespeare  the  countryman. 

Chafier  XIV 136 

The  '  Eight  \'illages' — "^  Piping'  Pebworth  and  'Dancing' 
JNIarston. 

Chapter  XV       .          .  .  .          .          .  .  .147 

llie  '  Kight  \'illages  '  (conr/uded). 

Chapter  XVI 164 

The  'Swan's  Nest' — Haunted.^  —  Clitford  Chambers  — 
AV^incot — Quinton,  and  its  club  day. 

X 


CONTENTS 

PA«K 

Chai'ter  XVII 174 

(liippiuiT  Cainpdeu. 

Chapter  XVIII 186 

A  Deserted  Railway  —  \'illages  of  tlie  Stour  \'alley — 
Ettingtonaml  Squire  Sliirley — Sliipston-oii-Stour — Brailes — 
Compton  A^^iiyates. 

Chapter  XIX 195 

LiKldington — ^\'elford — \\'estoii-oii-Avoii — C'leeve  Priors — 
Salfordl'riors. 

Chapter  XX 201 

Kvesliam. 

Chapter  XXI 211 

Broadway  —  AVinchconilie  —  Shakespearean  Associations — 
Bishop's  Cleeve. 

Chapter  XXII 219 

Tewkesbury. 

Chapter  XXIII 230 

Clopton  House — Billesley — 'Hie  Home  of  Sliakespeare's 
Mother,  AV'ilmcote — Aston  Cantlow — Wootton  Wawen — 
Shakespeare  Hall,  Rowiiiirton. 

Chapter  XXIV 238 

Welcombe — Snittertield — \V'^arwick — Leicester's  Hospital — 
St.   Mary's  Church  and  tlie  Beauchamp  Chapel. 

Chafter  XXV 254 

AV^arwick  Castle. 

xi 


CONTENTS 


PAOK 


Chafjer  XXVI 266 

Guy's  Cliif— The  Legend  of  Guy— Keuilworth  and  its  M'ater- 
splash — Kenih^orth  Castle. 

Chapter  XXVTI 283 

Coventry. 


Xll 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Guild  C'liapel  and  Nasli's  House    . 

'^  Shakespeare's    Farm,"    formerly    the    "Ship"    In 

Underwood   ..... 
C'hapel  Street,  Stratford-on-Avon 
The  Harvard  House     .... 
The  Harvard  House  :  Panel  llooni 
Holy  Trinity  Church,  Stratford-ou-Avon 
The  Memorial  Theatre 
Shakespeare's  Birthplace 
The  Kitchen,  Shakespeare's  Birthplace 
The  Room  in  which  Shakespeare  was  born 
Shakespeare's  Signet-ring     . 
The  "Windmill"  Inn. 
The  Guild  Chapel,  Guild  Hall,  Grammar  School  and 
The  Schoolmaster's  House  and  Guild  Cliapel 
The  Head  iVIaster's  Desk,  Stratford-on-Avon  (Jramma 


Frontispiece 
Grendon 


Ancient  Knocker,  Stratford-on-Avon  Clnircl 
Shakespeare's  Monument 
Inscription  on  Shakespeare's  Grave 
The  Chancel,  Holy  Trinity  Church,  with  Shakespear 
ment    ...... 

A  Stratford  Miserere  :  The  Legend  of  the  L 
Shottery      ...... 

Anne  Hatliaway's  Cottage    . 

The  Living-room,  Amie  Hatliaway's  Cottage 

Anne  Hatliaway's  Bedroom  . 

Lucy  Shield  of  Arms    .... 

The  "Tumbledown  Stile,"  Charlecote  . 
The  (iateliouse,  Charlecote  . 
Charlecote  ...... 

"  Piping  Pebworth  "    . 

xiii 


'/'o  face 


To  face 


Almsliouses 

School 
To  face 

To  face 


Monu- 
To  face 


To  face 


li) 
.'5(> 
42 
44 
4(; 
4H 

54 

.5(5 
o8 
01 

(U) 

70 
80 
80 
8!) 

92 
100 
103 
lOG 
109 
112 
120 
120 
12;5 
125 
140 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  Dancing  AJarston  "    . 

Dining-room,  formerly  the  Kitclien,  King's  Lodge 

"  Drunken  Bidford  "    . 

The  "  Falcon,"  Hidford 

"  Haunted  Hillhorough  "  (1) 

"  Haunted  Hillhorough  "   {-l) 

"  Hungry  f^irafton  "      .... 

The  Hollow  Road,  E.xhall    . 

"  Papist  Wixford  "        .... 

Bras.s  to  Thomas  de  C'ruvve  and  wife,  A^^ixfo 

"  Beggarly  Broom  "     .... 

C'lopton  Bridge,  and  the  '"  Swan'.s  Xest " 

Clirtord  C'haml)ers         .... 

Old  Houses,  Chipping  C'ampden   . 

The  Market  House,  Chipping  Campden 

CJrevel's  House      ..... 

Interior  of  the  Market  House,  Chipping  Cample'.i 

Chipping  Campden  Church   . 

Brass  to  A\'illiam  Grevel  and  wife,  Chipping  Campden 

Compton  >\^ynyates       .... 

Boat  Lane,  \Velford       .... 

Bell  ToA\er,  Evesham    .... 

The  Almonry,  Evesham 

Abbey  tiateway,  Evesham      .    ■     . 

High  Street,  Tewkesbury 

The  "Bear"  luu  and  Bridge,  Tewkesliur\ 

The  Arden  House,  Home  of  Shakespeare's  mother,  W 

Wootton  A^^awen  Church 

Shakespeare  Hall,  Howington 

Leicester's  Hospital,  \\^arwick 

Leicester's  Hospital  :  the  Courtyard 

Leicester's  Hospibvl  ;  one  of  the  Brethren 

The  Beauchamp  C'hapel,  AFarwick 

The  Crypt  of  St.  Mary's,  Warwick 

Caesar's  Tower,  Warwick  Castle    . 

Kenilworth  Castle  ;  Ruins  of  the  Banquetting  Hall 


To  face 
To  Jace 


Imcote 
To  t'acf 


To  fare 


l-Af;  E 

U2 
145 
149 
150 
151 
153 
154 
15(5 
157 
150 
KU 
1(j5 
1(>7 
174 
174 
177 
178 
182 
184 
192 
198 
204 
206 
209 
223 
227 
233 
234 
23G 
239 
240 
244 
246 
248 
263 
278 


XIV 


SUMMER    DAYS 
IN    SHAKESPEARE     LAND 

CHAPTER   I 

The  Eefrinnings  of  Stratford-on-Avon. 

Ninety-five  miles  from  the  City  of  London,  in  the 
soutliern~^3art  of  Warwickshire,  and  on  the  left,  or 
northern  bank  of  the  Avon,  stands  a  famous  town. 
Not  a  town  famed  in  ancient  history,  nor  remarkable 
in  warlike  story,  nor  great  in  affairs  of  commerce.  _J[t_ 
was  never  a  strong  place,  with  menacing  castle  or 
defensive  town  walls  with  gates  closed  at  night.  It 
stood  upon  a  branch  road,  in  a  thinly-peopled  forest- 
district,  and  in  every  age  the  wars  and  tumults  and 
gi'eat  social  and  political  movements  which  constitute 
what  is  called  "  history  "  have  passed  it  by. 
f  Such  is,  and  has  been  from  the  beginning,  the  town 
of  Stratford-on-Avon,  whose  very  name,  although  now 
charged  with  a  special  significance  as  the  birthplace  of 
Shakespeare,  takes  little  hold  upon  the  imagination 
when  we  omit  the  distinguishing  "  on  Avon."  For 
there  are  other  Stratfords  to  be  found  upon  the  map 
of  England,  as  necessarily  there  must  be  when  we 
consider  the  origin  of  the  name,  which  means  merely 
the  ford  where  the  "  street  " — generally  a  paved  Roman 
road — crossed  a  river.  And  as  fords  of  this  kind  must 
B  1 


V 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

have  been  very  numerous  along  the  ancient  roads  of 
this  country  before  bridges  were  built,  we  can  only 
be  astonished  that  there  are  not  more  Stratfords  than 
the  five  or  six  that  are  found  in  the  gazetteers. 

The  Roman  road  that  came  this  way  Avas  a  vicinal 
route  from  the  Watling  Street  where  Birmingham  now 
stands,  through  Henley-in-Arden  and  Alcester,  the 
Roman  station  of  Alauna.  Passing  over  the  ford  of 
the  Avon,  it  went  to  London  by  way  of  Ettington, 
Sunrising  Hill,  and  Banbury.  Other  Roman  roads, 
the  Fosse  Way  and  Ryknield  Street,  remodelled  on  the 
lines  of  ancient  British  trackAvays,  passed  east  and  west 
of  Stratford  at  an  equal  distance  of  six  miles. 

All  the  surrounding  district  north  of  the  Avon  was 
woodland,  the  great  Forest  of  Arden ;  and  to  the  south 
of  the  river  stretched  a  more  low-lying  country  as  far 
as  the  foot  of  the  Cotswold  Hills,  much  less  thickly 
wooded.  Li  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  the 
Forest  of  Arden  was  greatly  diminished,  these  districts 
owned  two  distinctive  names  :  the  forest  being  called 
"the  Wooland,"  and  the  southward  pasture-lands  "the 
Feldon." 

The  travellers  who  came  this  way  in  early  Saxon 
times,  and  perhaps  even  later,  came  to  close  grips  with 
the  true  inwardness  of  things.  They  looked  death  often 
in  the  face  as  they  went  the  lonely  road.  The  wild 
things  in  the  forest  menaced  them,  floods  obscured  the 
fords,  lawless  men  no  less  fierce  than  the  animals  which 
roamed  the  tangled  brakes  lurked  and  slew.  "  Now 
am  I  in  Arden,"  the  wayfarer  might  have  said,  anticipat- 
ing Touchstone,  "  the  more  fool  I;  when  I  was  at  home 
I  was  in  a  better  place ;   but  travellers  must  be  content." 

No  town  or  village  then  existed  upon  the  banks  of 
Avon,  and  the  first  mention  of  Stratford  occurs  in 
A.D.   691,   when  a  monastery  situated  here  is  named. 

2 


STRATFORD-ON-AVOX 

It  was  an  obscure  house,  but  with  extensive  and  valu- 
able lands  which  Bishops  of  Worcester  hungered  for 
and  finally  obtained.  The  site  of  this  monastery  was 
scarcely  that  of  the  existing  town  of  Stratford,  but  was 
where  the  present  parish  church  stands,  in  what  is  known 
as  "  Old  Stratford,"  which  is  on  the  extreme  southerly 
limit  of  the  town.  It  was  thus  situated  at  some  little 
distance  from  the  ford,  Avhich  was  of  course  exactly 
where  the  Clopton  Bridge  now  crosses  the  river.  At 
that  ford  there  would  probably  even  then  have  been  a 
hermit,  as  there  was  later,  charged  with  the  due  guid- 
ance of  travellers,  and  in  receipt  of  offerings,  but  of  him 
we  know  nothing,  and  next  to  nothing  of  the  monastery. 

The  Bishops  of  Worcester,  having  thus  early  obtained 
a  grant  of  the  monastery  and  its  lands,  became  lords  of 
the  manor  and  so  remained  for  centuries,  wielding  in 
their  spiritual  and  manorial  functions  a  very  complete 
authority  over  the  town  which  gradually  arose  here. 
To  resist  in  any  way  the  Church's  anointed  in  matters 
spiritual  or  temporal  would  have  been  to  kick  most 
foolishly  against  the  pricks,  for  in  his  one  autocratic 
capacity  he  could  blast  your  worldly  prospects,  and  in 
the  other  he  could  (or  it  was  confidently  believed  he 
could)  damn  you  to  all  eternity.  Thus  it  may  well 
be  supposed  that  those  Right  Reverend  were  more 
feared  than  loved. 

r  It  was  an  agricultural  and  cattle-raising  community  \ 
that  first  arose  here.  "  Rother  Street  "  still  by  its  name 
alludes  to  the  olden  passage  of  the  cattle,  for  "  rother  " 
is  the  good  Anglo-Saxon  word  "  hroether,"  for  cattle. 
The  word  was  known  to  Shakespeare,  who  wrote,  "  The 
pasture  lards  the  rother 's  sides." 

In   1216  the  then  Bishop   of  Worcester  obtained  a 
charter  for  a  fair,  the  first  of  four  obtained  between  tha 
date  and  1271.     The  fairs  attracted  business,  and  about 

B  2  3 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

1290  the  first  market  was  founded.  The  town  had 
begun  to  grow,  slowly,  it  is  true,  but  substantially. 
At  this  period  also  that  Guild  arose  which  was  originally 
a  religious  and  charitable  fraternity,  but  eventually 
developed  into  surprising  issues,  founding  a  gi'ammar- 
schooi  and  becoming  a  tradesmen's  society,  whence  the 
incorporation  of  the  town  in  1553,  and  the  establishment 
of  a  town  council  derived.  Camden,  writing  about  this 
time,  was  able  to  describe  it  as  "a  proper  little  mercat 
towne." 

In  that  era  which  witnessed  the  incorporation  of  the 
town  of  Stratford-on-Avon  and  the  birth  of  Shakespeare 
the  population  was  some  2000.  It  is  now  about  8300 ; 
a  very  moderate  increase  in  three  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  and  much  below  the  average  rate  for  towns,  by 
which  Stratford  might  now  have  had  a  population  of  \ 
about  16,000.  ^ 

The  incorporation  of  this  little  town  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  the  Sixth  was  a  great  event  locally.  It  included 
the  restitution  to  the  people  of  the  place  of  the  buildings 
and  the  property  of  the  Guild  of  Holy  Cross  which  had 
been  confiscated  in  1547,  when  also  the  inhabitants 
had  been  relieved  from  the  yoke  of  the  Bishops  of 
Worcester,  whose  manor  had  been  taken  away  from 
them.  It  is  true  that  the  manorial  rights  had  not  been 
abolished  and  that  the  property  and  its  various  ancient 
privileges  had  only  been  transferred  to  other  owners, 
but  it  was  something  to  the  good  that  the  Church  no 
longer  possessed  these  things.  These  were  not  arbitrary 
changes,  the  whim  of  this  monarch  or  that,  Henry  the 
Eighth  and  Edward  the  Sixth  did  only  what  others  in 
their  place  would  and  must  have  done.  They  were 
certainly  sovereigns  with  convictions  of  their  own,  but 
their  attitude  of  mind  was  but  the  Zeitgeist,  the  spirit 
of  the  age,  and  they  did  not  so  much  originate  it  as 

4> 


STRATFORD-ON-AVON 

be  swayed  by  it.  Those  statesmen  who  have  been 
held  meanly  subservient  to  them  were,  after  all,  men  of 
like  convictions.  They  saw  the  old  order  to  be  outworn 
and  existing  institutions  ripe  for  change.  It  was  the 
age  of  the  Renascence.  Everywhere  was  the  new 
spirit,  which  was  remodelling  thought  as  well  as  material 
things.  It  was  the  age,  above  all  things,  of  the  new 
learning.  These  feelings  led  the  advisers  of  the  young 
king,  Edward  the  Sixth,  to  counsel  the  restitution  to 
the  town  of  the  property  of  the  Guild  dissolved  only 
six  years  earlier,  with  the  important  provision  that  the 
grammar-school  was  to  be  re-established  and  maintained 
out  of  its  revenues.  To  this  provision  we  distinctly  owe 
the  dramatist,  William  Shakespeare,  who  was  born  at 
the  very  time  when  the  educational  advantages  thus 
secured  to  the  children  of  the  townsfolk  had  settled 
down  into  smoothly  working  order.  Education  cannot 
produce  a  Shakespeare,  it  cannot  create  genius,  but  it 
can  give  genius  that  chance  in  early  elementary  training 
without  which  even  the  most  adaptive  minds  lose  their 
direction. 

The  ancient  buildings  of  the  Guild,  which  after  its 
long  career  as  a  kind  of  lay  brotherhood  for  what  modern 
people  would  style  "  social  service,"  had  attained  an 
unlooked-for  development  as  the  town  authority,  thus 
provided  Stratford  with  its  Grammar  School  and  its 
first  town-hall.  In  those  timbered  rooms  the  scholars 
received  their  education,  and  for  eighty  years,  until  1633, 
when  the  first  hall  built  especially  for  the  corporation  was 
opened,  the  aldermen  and  councillors  met  there.  Among 
them  was  John  Shakespeare. 


CHAPTER   II 

Tlie  Shakespeares — .Jolin  Sliakespeare,  Glover,  A¥ool-mercliaiit — Birth 
of  William  Sliakespeare — Rise  and  Decline  of  John  Sliakespeare — 
Early  Marriage  of  William. 

A  MODERN  man  who  now  chanced  to  own  the  name  of 
"  Shakespeare  "  would  feel  proud,  even  of  that  fortuitous 
and  remote  association  with  the  greatest  figure  in  English 
literature.     He  might  even  try  to  live  up  to  it,  although 
the   probabilities  are  that   he  would  quite   early  forgo 
the  attempt  and  become  a  backslider  to  commonplace. 
But  available  records  tell  us  no  good  of  the  earliest 
bearers  of  the  name.     The  first  Shakespeare  of  whom 
we  have  any  notice  was  a  John  of  that  name.     He  was 
hanged  in  1248,  for  robbery.     It  is  a  very  long  time  ago 
since  this  malefactor  suffered,  and  perhaps  he  Avas  one 
of  those  very  many  unfortunate  persons  who  have  been 
in  all  ages  wrongfully  convicted.     But  the  name  was 
not    in    olden    times    a    respectable    one.     It    signified 
originally  one  who  wielded  a  spear ;   not  a  chivalric  and 
romantic  knight  warring  with  the  infidel  in  Palestine,  or 
jousting  to  uphold  the  claims  to  beauty  of  his  chosen 
lady,    but   a   common   soldier,    a   rough   man-at-arms ; 
one  who  was  in  great  request  in  his  country's  wars,  but 
was  accounted  an  undesirable  when  the  piping  times 
of  peace  were  come  again  and  every  man  desired  nothing 
better  than  to  sit  beneath  his  own  vine  and  fig-tree. 
We  have  record  of  a  certain  Shakespeare  who  grew  so 
weary  of  the  name  that  he  changed  it  for  "  Saunders." 
But  Time  was  presently  to  bring  revenge,  when  William 

6 


THE    SHAKESPEARES 

Shakespeare,  afterwards  to  become  a  poet  and  dramatist 
of  unapproachable  excellence,  was  born,  to  make  the 
choice  of  that  recreant  bearer  of  the  name  look 
ridiculous. 

One  Shakespeare  before  the  dramatist's  time  had 
reached  not  only  respectability  but  some  kind  of  local 
eminence.  This  was  Isabel  Shakespeare,  who  became 
Prioress  of  the  Priory  of  Baddesley  Clinton,  near  Knowle. 
Baddesley  Clinton  is  in  the  ancient  and  far-spreading 
Forest  of  Arden,  and  near  it  is  the  village  of  Rowington, 
where  there  still  remains  the  very  picturesque  fifteenth- 
century  mansion  called  Shakespeare  Hall,  which  is  said 
to  have  been  in  the  dramatist's  time  the  residence  of 
a  Thomas  Shakespeare,  an  uncle.  But  William  Shake- 
speare's genealogy  has  not  been  convincingly  taken  back 
beyond  his  grandfather  Richard  (whose  very  Christian 
name  is  only  traditional),  who  is  stated  to  have  been  a 
farmer  at  Snitterfield,  three  miles  from  Stratford-on- 
Avon. 

Warwickshire  was,  in  fact,  extremely  rich  in  Shake- 
speares,  many  of  them  no  relatives  of  the  dramatist's 
family.  They  grew  in  every  hedgerow,  and  very  many 
of  them  owned  the  Christian  name  of  William,  but  they 
spelled  their  patronymic  in  an  amazing  number  of  ways. 
It  is  said  to  be  capable  of  four  thousand  variations.  We 
will  forbear  the  most  of  these.  "  Shaxpeare  "  is  the 
commonest  form.  The  marriage -bond  for  William 
Shakespeare  and  Anne  Hathaway  spells  his  name 
"  Shagspere,"  and  the  dramatist  himself  spells  it  in 
two  different  ways  in  the  three  signatures  on  his  will, 
which  forms  to  the  Baconians  conclusive  proof  of  the 
two  following  contradictory  propositions  (1)  that  he 
did  not  know  how  to  spell  his  own  name,  and  (2)  that, 
the  spelling  being  different,  the  so-called  signatures 
were  written  by  a  law-clerk  !     As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 

7 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

spelling  of  one's  name  was  in  those  times  a  matter  of 
taste  and  fancy,  which  constantly  varied.  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  contemporary  with  Shakespeare,  was  a  scholar 
whom  no  one  will  declare  an  illiterate,  yet  he  wrote 
his  own  name,  with  a  fine  disregard  of  consistency 
and  of  what  future  generations  might  say,  "  Rawley," 
"  Ralegh,"  "  Rawleighe  "  and  "  Rauleygh." 

In  any  case,  the  "  law-clerk  "  theory  will  hardly  do. 
A  law-clerk  who  wrote  such  a  shocking  bad  hand  as  the 
six  signatures  of  Shakespeare  display  could  not  have 
earned  his  living  with  lawyers  and  conveyancers.  They 
are  signatures,  nearly  all  of  them,  Avhich  might  confi- 
dently be  taken  to  a  chemist,  to  be  "  made  up,"  but 
exactly  how  he  would  read  the  "  prescription  "  miust  be 
left  to  the  imagination. 

Sure  and  certain  foothold  upon  genealogical  fact  is 
only  reached  with  William  Shakespeare's  father,  who 
established  himself  at  Stratford-on-Avon  about  1551, 
when  he  seems  to  have  been  twenty-one  years  of  age. 
He  was  described  at  various  times  as  a  fell-monger  and 
glover,  a  woolstapler,  a  butcher  and  a  dealer  in  hay  and 
corn.  Probably,  as  a  son  of  the  farmer  at  Snitterfield,  he 
was  interested  in  most  of  these  trades.  His  home  and 
place  of  business  in  the  town  was  in  Henley  Street,  then, 
as  now,  one  of  the  meaner  streets  of  the  place.  Its  name 
derives  from  this  forming  the  way  out  of  Stratford  to 
the  town  of  Henley-in-Arden. 

The  very  first  thing  we  have  recorded  of  John  Shake- 
speare at  Stratford  is  his  being  fined  twelve  pence  for 
having  a  muck-heap  in  front  of  his  door.  Twelve  pence 
in  that  day  was  equal  to  about  eight  shillings  and  six- 
pence of  our  own  times ;  and  thus,  when  we  consider 
the  then  notoriously  dirty  and  insanitary  condition  of 
Stratford,  endured  with  fortitude,  if  not  with  cheerful- 
ness by  the  burgesses,  we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion 


THE   SHAKESPEARES 

that  Mr.  John  Shakespeare's  muck-heap  must  have  been 
a  super  muck-heap,  an  extremely  large  and  offensive 
specimen,  that  made  the  gorge  of  even  the  least  squeamish 
of  his  fellow-townsmen  rise.  Two  other  tradesmen  were 
fined  at  the  same  time,  and  in  1558  he  Avas,  in  company 
with  four  others  (among  whom  was  the  chief  alderman, 
Francis  Burbage)  fined  in  the  smaller  sum  of  fourpence 
for  not  keeping  his  gutter  clean. 

By  1556,  however,  he  would  seem  to  have  been 
prospering,  for  in  that  year  he  purchased  two  copyhold 
tenements,  one  in  Henley  Street,  next  the  house  and 
shop  now  known  as  "  the  birthplace  "  which  he  was 
already  occupying;  the  other  in  Greenhill  Street.  Next 
year  he  married  Mary  Arden,  of  Wilmcote,  three  miles 
from  Stratford,  daughter  of  Robert  Arden,  yeoman 
farmer  of  that  place,  said  on  insufficient  evidence  to 
have  been  kin  to  the  ancient  knightly  family  of  Arden. 
She  had  become,  on  her  father's  death  in  December  1556, 
owner  of  landed  property  called  Asbies,  at  Wilmcote, 
and  some  like  interests  at  Snitterfield,  in  common  with 
her  brothers  and  sisters.  She  was  thus,  in  a  small  way, 
an  heiress.  Wilmcote  being  then  merely  a  hamlet  in 
the  parish  of  Aston  Cantlow,  they  were  married  at  the 
church  of  that  place. 

John  Shakespeare  was  now  a  rising  tradesman,  and 
in  this  same  auspicious  year  became  a  member  of  the 
town  council,  a  body  then  newly  established,  upon  the 
granting  of  a  charter  of  incorporation  in  1553. 

On  September  15th,  1558  his  daughter  Joan  was  bap- 
tized. She  died  an  infant.  In  1565,  after  serving 
various  municipal  offices,  he  became  an  alderman. 
Meanwhile,  at  the  close  of  November  1562,  a  daughter, 
Margaret,  was  born,  who  died  the  next  year;  and  in 
1564,  on  April  26th,  his  son  William  was  baptized.  The 
date  of  the  poet's  birth  is  traditionally  St.  George's  Day, 

9 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

April  23rd ;  now,  with  the  alteration  in  the  calendar, 
identical  with  May  5th. 

In  that  year  the  town  was  scourged  by  a  terrible 
visitation  of  the  plague,  and  John  Shakespeare  is 
recorded,  among  others,  as  a  contributor  to  funds  for 
the  poor  who  suffered  by  it.  On  August  30th  he  paid 
twelve  pence  ;  on  September  6th,  sixpence ;  on  the  27th  of 
the  same  month  another  sixpence ;  and  on  October  20th 
eightpence;  about  twenty-two  shillings  of  our  money. 
It  is  only  by  tradition — ^but  that  a  very  old  one — that 
William  Shakespeare  was  born  at  "  the  birthplace  "  in 
Henley  Street ;  but  there  is  no  reasonable  excuse  for 
doubting  it,  unless  we  like  to  think  that  he  was  born 
at  the  picturesque  old  house  in  the  village  of  Clifford 
Chambers,  which  afterwards  became  the  vicarage  and 
is  now  a  farmhouse.  A  John  Shakespeare  Avas  at  that 
time  living  there,  two  miles  only  from  Stratford,  and  it 
has  been  suggested  that  he  is  identical  with  the  father 
of  William,  and  that  in  this  plague  year  he  took  the 
precaution  of  removing  his  wife  out  of  danger. 

In  1566  we  find  a  link  between  the  Shakespeares  and 
the  Hathaways  in  John  Shakespeare  standing  surety 
for  Richard  Hathaway ;  and  in  the  same  year  his  son 
Gilbert  was  born ;  another  Joan  being  born  in  1569. 
In  1568  and  1571  he  attained  the  highest  municipal 
offices,  being  elected  high-bailiff  and  senior  alderman, 
and  thus,  as  chief  magistrate,  is  found  described  in  local 
documents  as  "  Mr.  "  Shakespeare.  In  1571  also  his 
daughter  Anne,  who  died  in  1579,  was  born ;  and  in 
1573  a  son,  Richard.  In  1575  he  purchased  the  freehold 
of  "  the  birthplace  "  from  one  Edmund  Hall,  for  £40. 

Early  in  1578  the  first  note  of  ill-fortune  is  sounded  in 
the  career  of  John  Shakespeare.  Some  financial  disaster 
had  befallen  him.  In  January,  when  the  town  council 
had  decided  to  provide  weapons  for  two  billmen,  a  body 

10 


THE   SHAKESPEARES 

of  pikemen,  and  one  archer,  and  assessed  the  aldermen 
for  six  shillings  and  eightpence  each  and  the  burgesses 
at  half  that  amount,  two  of  the  aldermen  were  excused 
the  full  pay.  One,  Mr.  Plumley,  was  charged  five 
shillings,  and  Mr.  Shakespeare  was  to  pay  only  three  and 
fourpence.  The  following  year  he  defaulted  in  an  assess- 
ment for  the  same  amount.  Meanwhile,  he  had  been 
obliged  to  mortgage  Asbies,  which  had  come  to  him 
with  his  wife,  and  to  sell  the  interests  at  Snitterfield. 
The  Shakespeares,  although  they  in  after  years  again 
grew  prosperous,  never  recovered  Asbies. 

No  one  knows  what  caused  these  straitened  circum- 
stances. Possibly  it  was  some  disastrous  speculation 
in  corn.  In  the  midst  of  this  trouble,  his  seven-year-old 
daughter,  Anne,  died,  and  another  son,  Edmund,  was 
born,  1580.  He  ceased  to  attend  meetings  of  the  town 
council,  and  his  son  William  entered  into  an  improvident 
marriage. 


11 


CHAPTER   III 

Anne  Hathaway,  Shakespeare's  bride — The  hasty  marriage — Shake- 
speare's wild  young  days — He  leaves  for  London — Grendon 
Underwood. 

William  Shakespeare  was  but  eighteen  and  a  half 
years  of  age  when  he  married.  Legally,  he  was  an 
"  infant."  His  wife  was  by  almost  eight  years  his 
senior,  but  if  we  agree  with  Bacon's  saying,  that  a- 
man  finds  himself  ten  years  older  the  day  after  his 
marriage,  the  disparity  became  at  once  more  than 
rectified.  She  was  one  Anne,  or  Agnes,  Hathaway; 
her  father,  Richard,  being  a  farmer  of  Shottery. 
The  Hathaways  were  numerous  in  this  district,  there 
being  at  that  time  no  fewer  than  three  families  of 
the  name  in  Shottery  and  others  in  Stratford.  Anne 
had  no  fewer  than  eight  brothers  and  sisters,  all  of 
whom,  except  two,  are  mentioned  in  their  father's 
will.  Richard,  who  describes  himself  in  his  will  as 
"  husbandman,"  executed  that  document  on  September 
1st,  1581,  and  died  probably  in  the  June  following, 
for  his  will  was  proved  in  London  on  July  9th,  1582. 
Storms  of  rival  theories  have  raged  around  the  mystery 
surrounding  this  marriage,  of  which  the  register  does 
not  exist.  It  is  claimed  that  Shakespeare  was  married 
at  Temple  Grafton,  Luddington,  Billesley,  and  elsewhere, 
but  no  shadow  of  evidence  can  be  adduced  for  any  of 
these  places.  All  we  know  is  that  on  November  28th, 
1582,   Fulke   Sandells   and   John   Richardson,   farmers, 

12 


ANNE   HATHAWAY 

of   Stratford,    who   had   been   respectively   one   of   the 
"  supervisors  "    and   one   of   the   witnesses   of   Richard 
Hathaway 's  will,  went  to  Worcester  and  there  entered 
into  a  "  Bond   in   £40  against  Impediments,  to  defend 
and  save  harmless  the  right  reverend  father  in   God, 
John,  Lord  Bushop  of  Worcester  "  from  any  complaint 
or  process  that  might  by  any  possibility  arise  out  of  his 
licensing  the  marriage  with  only  once  asking  the  banns. 
These  two  bondsmen  declared  that  "  William  Shagspere, 
one   thone    partie  and  Anne  Hathaway  of    Stratford  " 
(Shottery  was  and  is  a  hamlet  in  the  parish  of  Stratford- 
on-Avon)   "  in  the  dioces  of  Worcester,   maiden,   may 
lawfully  solemnize  marriage  together."     This  document, 
discovered     in     the    Worcester    Registry    in    1836,    is 
sufficiently  clear  and  explicit ;     but  a  complication  is 
introduced  by  a  license  issued  the  day  before  by  the 
Bishop  for  a  marriage  "  inter  Wm.  Shaxpere  et  Anna 
Whateley  de  Temple  Grafton."     It  has  been  suggested 
that,  as  there  were  Whateleys  living  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  that  as  there  were  numerous  Shakespeares 
also,  with  many  Williams  among  them,  this  was  quite 
another  couple,  while  others  contend  that  "Whateley" 
was  a  mistake  of  one  of  the  clerks  employed  in  the 
Bishop's  registry,  and  that  the  name  of  Temple  Grafton 
as    "  place   of  residence  "   of  the   bride   was   a  further 
mistake,  that  being  the  place  intended  for  the  ceremony. 
In  any  case,  the  point  is  of  minor  interest  for  the  registers 
of  Temple  Grafton  do  not  go  back  to  that  date,  and  the 
fabric  of  the  church  itself  is   quite  new.     We  do  not 
know,  therefore,  where  Shakespeare  was  married,  nor 
when ;   and  can  but  assume  that  the  wedding  took  place 
shortly  after  the  bond  was  signed. 

Six  months  later,  Shakespeare's  eldest  daughter  was 
born,  for  we  see  in  the  register  of  baptisms  in  Holy 
Trinity  churgh,  Stratford,  the  entry  : — 

13 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

"  1583,  May  26th,  Susanna,  daughter  to  WilHam 
Shakespere." 

The  reason  for  the  hurried  visit  of  the  two 
farmers  to  Worcester,  to  hasten  on  the  marriage  with 
but  one  "  asking  *'  in  church  now  becomes  evident. 
They  were  friends  of  the  late  Richard  Hathaway,  and 
were  determined  that  young  Shakespeare  should  not 
get  out  of  marrying  the  girl  he  had — ^wronged,  shall 
we  say  ?  Well,  no.  There  have  been  many  moralists 
excessively  shocked  at  this  pre-nuptial  intimacy,  and 
they  assert  that  Shakespeare  seduced  Anne  Hathaway. 

But  young  men  of  just  over  eighteen  years  of  age  do 
not,  I  think,  beguile  young  women  nearly  eight  years 
older.  Anne  probably  seduced  him;  for  woman  is 
more  frequently  the  huntress  and  the  chooser,  and  man 
is  a  very  helpless  creature  before  her  wiles. 

The  extravagances  of  the  Baconians  may  well  be 
illustrated  here,  for  although  the  subject  of  Shakespeare's 
marriage  has  no  bearing  upon  the  famous  cryptogram 
and  the  authorship  of  the  plays,  Donnelly  spreads 
himself  generously  all  over  Shakespeare's  life,  and  light- 
heartedly  settles  for  us  the  mystery  of  the  bond  re  the 
marriage  of  Anne  Hathaway  and  the  license  to  marry 
Anne  Whateley  by  suggesting  that  60^^  names  are  correct 
and  refer  to  the  same  persons.  He  says  Anne  Hatha- 
way married  a  Whateley  and  that  it  was  as  a  widow  she 
married  William  Shakespeare,  her  maiden  name  being 
given  in  the  bond  by  mistake  !  The  sheer  absurdity  of 
this  is  obvious  when  we  consider  that  if  Mr.  Donnelly 
is  right,  then  the  bondsmen  made  the  yet  grosser  error 
of  describing  the  widow  as  a  "  maiden."  She  was 
actually  at  that  time  neither  wife,  maid  nor  widow. 

Again,  Richard  Hathaway  the  father  made  his  will  in 
September  1581,  leaving  {inter  alia)  a  bequest  to  Anne 
"  to  be  paide  unto  her  at  the  dale  of  her  marriage."   She 

14 


ANNE  HATHAWAY 

was  a  single  young  woman  then,  and  yet  according  to 
the  DonnelHan  view  she  was  ah'eady,  fifteen  months 
later,  a  widow,  again  about  to  be  married. 

Apologists  for  this  hasty  marriage,  jealous  for  the 
reputation  of  Shakespeare,  are  keen  to  find  an  excuse 
in  the  supposition  that  he  was  a  Roman  Catholic  and 
that  he  was  already  married  secretly,  probably  in  the 
room  in  the  roof  of  Shottery  Manor  House,  which  is 
supposed  to  have  been  used  at  this  period  as  a  place  of 
secret  worship.  But  there  is  no  basis  for  forming  any 
theory  as  to  Shakespeare's  religious  convictions.  A 
yet  more  favourite  assumption  is  that  Shakespeare  and 
Anne  Hathaway  went  through  the  ceremony  of  "hand- 
fasting,"  a  formal  betrothal  which,  although  not  a 
complete  marriage  and  not  carrying  with  it  the  privileges 
of  marriage  was  a  bar  to  either  of  the  parties  marrying 
another.  Jack  was  thus  made  sure  of  his  Jill ;  and, 
perhaps  even  more  important,  Jill  was  certain  of  her 
Jack.  But  if  this  ceremony  had  taken  place,  there 
would  have  been  no  necessity  for  that  hasty  journey 
of  those  two  friends  of  the  Hathaways  to  Worcester. 

Nothing  is  known  of  the  attitude  of  Shakespeare's 
parents  towards  the  marriage,  nor  has  any  one  ever 
suggested  how  he  supported  himself,  his  wife  and 
family  in  the  years  before  he  left  Stratford  for  London. 
At  the  close  of  January  1585,  his  twin  son  and  daughter, 
Hamnet  and  Judith  were  born,  and  they  were  baptized 
at  Stratford  church  on  February  2nd.  Whether  he 
assisted  his  father  in  his  business  of  glover,  or  helped 
on  his  farm,  or  whether  he  became  assistant  master  at 
the  Grammar  School,  as  sometimes  suggested,  is  mere 
matter  for  speculation.  John  Aubrey,  picking  up 
gossip  at  Stratford,   writes — 

"  Mr.  William  Shakespear  was  borne  at  Stratford  upon 
Avon  in  the  county  of  Warwick.     His  father  was  a 

15 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

butcher,  and  I  have  been  told  heretofore  by  some  of  the 
neighbours,  that  when  he  was  a  boy  he  exercised  his 
father's  trade,  but  when  he  kill'd  a  calfe  he  would  doe  it 
in  a  high  style,  and  make  a  speech." 

That  may  or  may  not  be  true,  but  it  looks  as  though 
William  had,  about  this  impressionable  age,  become 
stage-struck.  He  had  had  numerous  opportunities  of 
seeing  the  players,  for  his  father  had  in  his  more  pros- 
perous days  been  a  patron  of  the  strolling  companies, 
both  as  a  private  individual  and  as  a  member  of  the 
town  council.  In  1569  two  such  troupes,  who  called 
themselves  the  "  Queen's  servants,"  and  "  servants  of 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,"  gave  performances  before  the 
corporation  and  were  paid  out  of  the  public  monies; 
a  forecast  of  the  municipal  theatre  !  And  no  doubt 
John  Shakespeare,  together  with  many  other  Stratford 
people,  went  over  to  Kenilworth  during  the  magnificent 
pageants  given  there  by  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  in 
1575,  in  honour  of  Queen  Elizabeth;  taking  with  him 
his  little  boy,  then  eleven  years  of  age.  Thus  would  the 
foundations  of  an  ambition  be  laid. 

At  this  time,  1585,  John  Shakespeare's  affairs,  from 
whatever  cause,  were  under  a  cloud.  They  had  been 
declining  since  1578,  when  he  had  been  obliged  to 
mortgage  some  of  the  property  that  had  been  his  wife's, 
and  now  he  was  deprived  of  his  alderman's  gown. 
William  about  this  time,  whether  in  1585  or  1587  is 
uncertain,  left  Stratford  for  London,  whither  some  of 
his  boyhood's  friends  had  already  preceded  him,  among 
them  Richard  Field. 

Stratford  at  this  time  was  certainly  no  place  for 
William,  if  he  wished  to  emulate  Dr.  Samuel  Smiles' 
worthies  and  conform  to  the  gospel  of  getting  on  in  the 
world,  the  most  popular  gospel  ever  preached.  In  1587, 
Nicholas  Lane,  one  of  his  father's  creditors,  sought  to 

16 


SHAKESPEARE   GOES   TO   LONDON 

distrain  upon  John  Shakespeare's  goods,  but  the  sheriff's 
officers  returned  the  doleful  tale  of  "  no  effects,"  and  so 
he  had  his  trouble  for  nothing.  It  is,  however,  curious 
that  even  when  reduced  to  his  last  straits,  John  Shake- 
speare never  sold  his  property,  the  house  in  which  he 
lived  and  carried  on  business,  in  Henley  Street. 

In  addition  to  the  discredit  attaching  to  being  thus 
one  of  the  Shakespeares  who  had  come  down  in  the  world, 
William,  according  to  the  very  old,  strong  and  persistent 
tradition,  was  at  this  time  showing  a  very  rackety  dis- 
position. He  consorted  with  the  wilder  young  men  of  the 
town  and  went  on  drinking  bouts  with  them.  Sometimes, 
with  them,  he  raided  the  neighbouring  parks  and  killed 
the  deer  and  poached  other  game ;  and  the  old  tradition 
hints  that  on  these  occasions  the  others  made  good  their 
escape  and  Shakespeare  was  generally  caught.  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy  of  Charlecote,  who  was  the  chief  sufferer 
from  the  exploits  of  these  youths,  is  said  to  have  had 
Shakespeare  whipped,  imprisoned  and  fined  for  his  part 
in  them. 

To  London,  therefore,  William  Shakespeare  made  his 
way.  With  what  credentials,  if  any,  did  he  go  ?  He 
had  friends  in  London,  among  them  Richard  Field,  a 
schoolfellow,  Avho  in  1579  had  gone  thither,  to  become 
apprentice  to  a  printer,  and  in  1587,  about  this  time 
when  Shakespeare  left  home,  had  set  up  in  business 
for  himself  and  become  a  member  of  the  Stationers' 
Company.  Shakespeare  may  quite  reasonably  have 
sought  his  help  or  advice ;  and  certainly  Field  six  years 
later  published  Shakespeare's  Venus  and  Adonis, 
dedicated  to  Henry  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton, 
the  foremost  literary  and  dramatic  patron  of  the  age, 
from  whose  friendship  and  powerful  aid  all  intellectual 
aspirants  hoped  much. 

It  is  quite  likely  that  Shakespeare  left  Stratford 
c  17 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

with  a  company  of  travelling  actors,  and  reaching  town 
with  them,  gradually  drifted  into  regular  employment 
at  one  of  the  only  two  London  theatres  that  then 
existed,  "  The  Theatre  "  and  the  "  Curtain  "  both  in 
Shoreditch. 

It  is  of  some  interest  to  speculate  upon  the  manner 
in  which  Shakespeare  journeyed  to  London,  and  the 
way  he  went.  Was  he  obliged  to  walk  it,  in  the  tradi- 
tional manner  of  the  poor  countryman  seeking  his 
fortune  in  the  great  metropolis  ?  Or  did  he  make  the 
journey  by  the  carrier's  cart  ?  There  are  two  principal 
roads  by  which  he  may  have  gone ;  by  Newbold-on- 
Stour,  Long  Compton,  Chapel  House,  and  Woodstock 
to  Oxford,  Beaconsfield  and  through  High  Wycombe  and 
Uxbridge,  95  miles ;  or  he  might  have  chosen  to  go  by 
Ettington,  Pillerton  Priors,  Sunrising  Hill,  Wroxton  and 
Banbury,  through  Aynho,  Bicester,  Aylesbury,  Tring 
and  Watford  to  London,  92 f  miles.  Such  an  one  as  he 
would  probably  first  go  to  London  by  Avay  of  Oxford, 
for,  like  Thomas  Hardy's  "  Jude  the  Obscure,"  he  would 
doubtless  think  it  "  a  city  of  light."  There  are  traditions 
at  Oxford  of  Shakespeare's  staying  at  the  "  Crown"  inn 
in  the  Cornmarket  in  after  years.  Sometimes  he  would 
doubtless  go  by  the  Banbury  and  Bicester  route  :  and 
along  it,  at  the  village  of  Grendon  Underwood,  to  the 
left  of  the  road  between  Bicester  and  Aylesbury,  as  you 
journey  towards  London,  there  still  linger  very  precise 
traditions  of  Shakespeare  having  stayed  at  what  was 
formerly  the  "  Old  Ship  "  inn. 

Grendon  Underwood,  or  "  under  Bernwode  "  as  it 
is  styled  in  old  records,  appears  in  an  old  rhyme  as — 

"  The  dirtiest  town  that  ever  stood/' 

but  it  was  never  a  town,  and,  whatever  may  once  have 
been  its  condition,  it  is  no  longer  dirty.     It  is  not  at 

18 


C  2 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

first  sight  easily  to  be  understood  why  Shakespeare, 
or  any  other  traveller  of  that  age  journeying  the  long 
straight  stretch  of  the  old  Roman  road,  the  Akeman 
Street,  between  Bicester  and  Aylesbury,  should  want 
to  go  a  mile  and  a  quarter  out  of  his  Avay  for  the  purpose 
of  visiting  this  place,  but  that  they  did  so  is  sufficiently 
proved  by  the  comparative  importance  of  the  house 
that  was  until  about  a  hundred  and  twelve  years  ago 
the  "  Old  Ship  "  and  is  now  known  as  "  Shakespeare 
Farm."  It  is  clearly  too  large  ever  to  have  been  built 
for  an  ordinary  village  inn,  and  is  said  to  have  formerly 
been  even  larger.  If,  however,  we  refer  to  old  maps  of 
the  district,  it  will  be  found  that,  for  some  unexplained 
reason,  the  ancient  forthright  Roman  road  had  gone  out 
of  use,  and  that  instead  of  proceeding  direct,  along  the 
Akeman  Street,  the  wayfarers  of  old  went  a  circuitous 
course,  through  Grendon  Underwood.  When  this  de- 
viation took  place  does  not  appear  ;  but  it  was  obviously 
one  of  long  standing.  The  first  available  map  showing 
the  roads  of  the  district  is  that  by  Emanuel  Bo  wen,  1756, 
in  which  the  Akeman  Street  is  not  shown ;  the  only  road 
given  being  that  which  winds  through  Grendon.  The 
next  map  to  be  issued — that  by  Thomas  Jeffreys,  1788 — 
gives  the  Akeman  Street,  running  direct,  between  point 
and  point,  and  avoiding  Grendon,  as  it  does  now.  That 
was  the  great  era  of  turnpike-acts,  providing  for  the 
repair  and  restoration  of  old  roads,  and  the  making  of 
new ;  and  this  was  one  of  the  many  highways  then 
restored.  The  "  Old  Ship  "  inn,  at  Grendon  Under- 
wood, at  which  Shakespeare  and  many  generations  of 
travellers  had  halted,  at  once  declined  with  the  making 
of  the  direct  road,  and  soon  retired  into  private  life. 

The  Shakespeare  tradition  comes  down  to  us  through 
John  Aubrey,  who,  writing  in  1680,  says — 

"  The  humour  of  the  constable,  in  Midsomer-nighf  s 

20 


GRENDON  UNDERWOOD 

Dreame,^  he  happened  to  take  at  Grendon,  in  Bucks — ■ 
I  thinke  it  was  Midsomer  night  that  he  happened  to  lye 
there — which  is  the  roade  from  London  to  Stratford, 
and  there  was  Uving  that  constable  about  1642,  when  I 
first  came  to  Oxon." 

The  village  constable  referred  to  was  well  known  to 
one  Josias  Howe,  son  of  the  rector,  born  at  Grendon, 
March  29th,  1612,  died  August  28th,  1701,  Avho  told 
Aubrey  the  story  at  Oxford,  in  1642. 

The  lofty  gabled  red  brick  and  timber  end  of  Shake- 
speare Farm,  illustrated  here,  is  the  earlier  part  of  the 
building,  although  the  whole  of  it  is  probably  as  old  as 
Shakespeare's  time.  That  earlier  wing,  the  part  to 
which  tradition  points,  is  not  now  occupied,  and  is,  in 
fact,  in  a  very  dilapidated  condition,  occasional  floor- 
boards, and  even  some  of  the  stairs,  being  missing. 
Where  the  wearied  guests  of  long  ago  rested,  broody  hens 
are  set  by  the  careful  farmer's  wife  on  their  clutches 
of  eggs.  There  is  little  interesting  in  the  architectural 
way  in  these  dark  and  deserted  rooms,  but  the  flat, 
pierced,  wooden  banisters  of  the  staircase  are  genuinely 
old  and  quaint. 

^  He  should  liave  said  Much  Ado  About  Xofhinr/. 


21 


CHAPTER   IV 

Continued  decline  in  the  affairs  of  John  Shakespeare — William 
Shakespeare's  success  in  London — Death  of  Hamnet,  William 
Shakespeare's  only  son — Sliakespeare  buys  New  Place — He  retires 
to  Stratford — ^\''rites  his  last  play,  The  Tempest — His  death. 

That  Shakespeare  left  his  wife  and  family  at  home  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  every  one  takes  for  granted.  He 
"  deserted  his  family,"  says  a  rabid  Baconian,  who 
elsewhere  complains  of  the  lack  of  evidence  to  support 
believers  in  the  dramatist ;  forgetting  that  there  is  no 
evidence  for  this  "  desertion  "  story;  only  one  of  those 
many  blanks  in  the  life  of  this  elusive  man,  by  which 
it  would  appear  that  while  he  was  reaching  fame  and 
making  money  in  London  as  a  playwright  and  an  actor, 
he  held  no  communication  with  his  kith  and  kin.  There 
remains  no  local  record  of  William  Shakespeare  at 
Stratford-on-Avon  between  the  year  1587,  when  he 
joined  with  his  father  in  mortgaging  the  property  at 
Asbies,  Wilmcote,  which  had  been  his  mother's  marriage 
portion,  until  1596,  when  the  register  of  the  death  of 
Hamnet,  his  only  son,  occurs  at  Stratford  church,  on 
August  11th.  But  this  is  sheer  negative  evidence  of 
his  not  having  visited  his  native  town  for  over  ten 
years,  and  is  on  a  par  with  the  famous  Baconian  argu- 
ment that  because  no  scrap  of  Shakespeare's  hand- 
writing, except  six  almost  illegible  signatures,  has 
survived,  therefore  he  cannot  have  written  the  plays 
still  attributed  to  him. 

Meanwhile,   his  father's  affairs  steadily  grew  worse, 

22 


SUCCESS   IN   LONDON 

and  in  1592  he  was  returned  as  a  "  recusant  "  by  the 
commissioners  who  visited  the  town  for  the  purpose  of 
fining  the  statutable  fine  of  £20  all  those  who  had 
not  attended  church  for  one  month.  John  Shake- 
speare's recusancy  has  been  unwarrantably  assumed  to 
be  due  to  Roman  Catholic  obstinacy ;  but  the  fine  was 
remitted  because  it  was  shown  that  he  was  afraid 
to  go  to  church  "  for  processe  of  debt  " ;  which,  together 
with  the  infirmities  of  age,  or  sickness,  was  a  lawful 
excuse. 

Shakespeare's  success  in  London  as  an  actor,  a  reviser 
and  editor  of  old  and  out-of-date  plays,  as  manager, 
theatre-proprietor  and  playwright,  is  due  to  that 
sprack-witted  capacity  for  excelling  in  almost  any  chosen 
field  of  intellectual  activity  with  which  a  born  genius 
is  gifted.  The  saying  that  "  genius  is  a  capacity  for 
taking  pains  "  is  a  dull,  plodding  man's  definition. 
Genius  will  very  often  fling  away  the  rewards  of  its 
poAvers  through  just  this  lack  of  staying  power,  and  no 
plodding  pains  will  supply  that  intuitive  knowledge, 
that  instant  perception,  which  is  what  we  call  genius. 

It  was  the  psychological  moment  for  such  an  one  as 
Shakespeare  to  come  to  London.  The  drama  had  a 
future  before  it  :  the  intellectual  receptivity  of  the 
Renascence  permeated  all  classes,  and  the  country 
was  prosperous  and  growing  luxurious.  Playwrights 
were  numerous,  but  as  yet  their  productions  had  not 
reached  a  high  level,  excepting  those  of  Marlowe,  to 
whose  inspiration  Shakespeare  at  first  owed  much.  If 
Shakespeare  lived  in  these  times  he  would  be  called  a 
shameless  plagiarist,  for  he  went  to  other  authors  for 
his  plots — as  Chaucer  had  done  with  his  Canterbury 
Tales,  two  hundred  years  earlier,  and  as  all  others  had 
done  in  between.  Not  a  man  of  them  would  escape 
the    charge ;    but    what     Shakespeare    took    of     plot- 

23 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

construction  and  of  dialogue  he  transmuted  from  the 
dull  and  soulless  lines  we  could  not  endure  to  read  to-day, 
into  a  clear  fount  of  wit,  wisdom  and  literary  beauty. 

Shakespeare's  career  of  playwright  began  as  a  hack 
writer  and  cobbler  of  existing  plays.  As  an  actor  his 
technical  knowledge  of  the  requirements  of  the  stage 
rendered  his  help  invaluable  to  managers,  and  the 
conditions  of  that  time  gave  no  remedy  to  any  author 
whose  plays  were  thus  altered.  It  may  be  supposed 
from  lack  of  evidence  to  the  contrary,  that  most  other 
dramatic  authors  submitted  to  this  treatment  in  silence  ; 
perhaps  because  they  had  all  been  employed,  at  some 
time  or  other  in  the  same  way.  But  one  man  seems  to 
have  bitterly  resented  a  mere  actor  presuming  to  call 
himself  an  author.  This  was  Robert  Greene,  who 
died  Sept.  3rd,  1592,  after  a  long  career  of  play-writing 
and  pamphleteering.  He  died  a  disappointed  man, 
and  wrote  a  farewell  tract,  published  after  his  death, 
which  includes  a  warning  to  his  fellow-authors  and  an 
undoubted  attack  upon  Shakespeare,  under  the  thin 
disguise  of  "  Shake-scene." 

It  is  to  be  considered  that  Shakespeare  had  by  this 
time  been  five  years  in  London ;  that  he  had  proved 
himself  singularly  adaptable,  and  had  finally,  on 
March  3rd,  1592,  attained  his  first  popular  success,  in 
the  production  at  the  newly-opened  "  Rose  Theatre  " 
on  Bankside,  Southwark  (third  London  playhouse, 
opened  February  19th,  1592),  of  Henry  the  Sixth.  It 
was  a  veritable  triumph.  The  author  played  in  his 
own  piece,  and  the  other  dramatists  looked  on  in  dismay. 
Jealousy  does  not  seem  to  have  followed  Shakespeare's 
good  fortune,  and  the  numerous  references  to  him  as 
poet  and  playwright  by  others  are  kindly  and  fully 
recognise  his  superiority.  Only  Greene's  posthumous 
work  exists  to  show  how  one  resented  it.     The  tract 

24 


SHAKESPEARE   THE   ACTOR 

has  the  singular  title  of  "  A  Groats-Worth  of  Wit  bought 
with  a  Million  of  Repentance."  Incidentally  it  warns 
brother-dramatists  against  "  an  upstart  Crow,  beautified 
with  our  feathers  that  with  his  Tygers  heart  wrapt  in 
a  players  hide  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bumbast 
out  a  blanke  verse  as  the  best  of  you ;  and  being  an 
absolute  Johannes  factotum  is,  in  his  owne  conceite,  the 
only  Shake-scene  in  a  countrie." 

The  identification  of  this  crow  in  borrowed  plumage, 
this  "  Shake-scene,"  is  completed  by  the  line,  "  O 
tiger's  heart,  wrapp'd  in  a  woman's  hide,"  which  is  a 
quotation  from  the  Third  Part  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  where 
the  Duke  of  York  addresses  Queen  Margaret ;  while  the 
term  "Johannes  factotum,"  i.e.  *' Johnny  Do-every- 
thing,"  is  a  sneer  at  Shakespeare's  adaptability  and 
many-sided  activities. 

The  merits  of  Shakespeare  as  an  actor  are  uncertain. 
Greene  seems  to  imply  that  he  was  of  the  ranting, 
bellowing  type  who  tore  a  passion  to  tatters  and  split 
the  ears  of  the  groundlings.  Rowe,  who  wrote  of  him 
in  1709  says  :  "  The  top  of  his  performance  (as  an  actor) 
was  the  Ghost  in  his  own  Hamlet  "  ;  not  an  exacting  part ; 
other  traditions  say  Adam  in  As  You  Like  It,  an  even 
less  important  character,  was  his  favourite ;  but  the 
suggestion  we  love  the  better  to  believe  is  that  his  best 
part  was  the  cynical,  melancholy,  philosophic  Jaques. 
Donnelly,  chief  of  the  Bacon  heretics,  has  in  his  Great 
Cryptogram,  a  weird  story  of  how  Bacon  Avrote  the  part 
of  Falstaff  for  Shakespeare,  to  fit  his  great  greasy 
stomach.  He  knew  Shakespeare  could  not  act,  and  so 
provided  a  part  in  which  no  acting  should  be  required ; 
turning  Shakespeare's  natural  disabilities  to  account, 
so  that,  if  the  audience  could  not  laugh  with  him  in 
his  acting,  they  should  laugh  at  him  and  dissolve  into 
merriment  at  the  clumsy  antics  of  so  fat  a  man  ! 

25 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

There  are  actor-managers  in  our  times — no  actor- 
author-managers  like  Shakespeare— who  deserve  the 
cat-calls  and  the  missiles  of  their  audiences.  They 
do  not  merely  "  lag  superfluous  on  the  stage,"  but 
ought  never  to  be  on  it ;  like  the  celebrated  actor- 
manager  whose  impersonation  of  Hamlet  was,  accord- 
ing to  Sir  W.  S.  Gilbert's  caustic  remark,  "  funny 
without  being  vulgar."  It  is  not  conceivable  that 
Shakespeare  himself,  who  puts  such  excellent  advice  to 
actors  into  the  mouth  of  Hamlet,  should  himself  have 
been  incompetent. 

With  Shakespeare's  leap  into  fame,  in  1592,  went  a 
simultaneous  "  boom,"  as  it  might  now  be  termed, 
in  theatres  and  the  drama.  Theatres  multiplied  in 
London,  theatrical  companies  grew  prosperous,  and  such 
men  as  Shakespeare,  AUeyne  and  the  Burbages  amassed 
wealth. 

In  1596  died  William  Shakespeare's  only  son,  Hamnet, 
whose  burial  register  in  the  books  of  Holy  Trinity 
church,  Stratford,  runs — 

"  August  11th,  Hamnet,  filius  William  Shakespeare." 
His  father  must  surely  have  been  present  on  this  occa- 
sion. This  year  is  generally  said  to  be  that  in  which 
the  dramatist  who  in  his  time  had  played  many  parts, 
returned  to  his  native  town,  a  made  man.  He  came 
back  with  his  triumphs  ringing  fresh  in  his  ears,  for 
that  season  witnessed  the  great  success  of  the  production 
of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  In  July,  also,  his  father  had 
applied  to  the  Heralds'  College  for  a  grant  of  arms,  an 
application  for  a  patent  of  gentility  which  would  have 
come  absurdly  from  a  penniless  tradesman.  The  infer- 
ence therefore,  although  we  have  no  documentary 
evidence  to  that  effect,  is  that  William  Shakespeare 
had  not  only  kept  in  touch  with  his  people,  but  had 
helped  his  father  out  of  his  difficulties  and  was  himself 

26 


RETURN   TO    STRATFORD 

the  instigator  of  this  application  for  a  grant  of  arms. 
The  application  was  eventually  successful.  The  arms 
thus  conferred  are  :  "  Or,  on  a  bend  sable,  a  tilting  spear 
of  the  first,  point  upwards,  steeled  proper.  Crest,  a 
falcon,  his  wings  displayed,  argent,  standing  upon  a 
wreath  of  his  colours  and  supporting  a  spear  in  pale,  or." 
The  motto  chosen  was  "  Non  sanz  droict." 

What  was  this  right  to  heraldic  honours  and  the  im- 
plied gentility  they  carried,  the  Shakespeares  claimed  ? 
It  was  based  upon  a  quibble  that  John  Shakespeare's 
"  parent,  great-grandfather  and  late  antecessor,  for  his 
faithful  and  approved  service  to  the  most  prudent 
prince  king  H.  7  of  famous  memorie,  was  advanced 
and  rewarded  with  lands  and  tenements  geven  to 
him,"  etc.  The  description  of  the  miserly  Henry 
the  Seventh  as  "  prudent  "  is,  like  "  mobled  queen," 
distinctly  "  good  " ;  but  we  are  not  greatly  concerned 
with  that,  only  with  the  fact  that  the  martial  and  loyal 
antecessors  claimed  for  John  Shakespeare  were  really 
those  of  his  wife.  He  adopted  his  wife's  family,  or 
rather,  her  family's  pretensions  to  call  cousins  with  the 
more  famous  Ardens. 

William  Shakespeare  had  returned  to  Stratford  a 
well-to-do  man,  with  an  income  which  has  been  estimated 
at  about  £1300  of  our  money,  but  he  had  not  yet  com- 
pleted his  work,  and  his  reappearance  in  his  native 
town  was  not  permanent.  You  figure  him  now,  the 
dramatist  and  manager,  with  considerable  shares  in 
the  Globe  and  Blackfriars  Theatres,  rather  concerned 
to  relinquish  the  trade — not  a  j^rofession,  really,  you 
know — of  actor,  but  with  his  company  much  in  request 
at  Court  and  in  the  mansions  of  the  great.  He  was, 
one  thinks,  a  little  sobered  by  the  passage  of  time ;  and 
by  the  death,  this  year,  of  his  only  son  ;  and  quite  sensible 
of  the  dignity  that  new  patent  of  arms  had  conferred 

27 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

upon  his  father  and  himself.  To  mark  it,  he  bought  in 
1597  a  residence,  the  best  residence  in  the  town,  although 
wofully  out  of  repair.  It  was  known,  with  some  awe, 
to  his  contemporaries  as  "  the  great  house."  Sixty 
pounds  sterling  was  the  purchase  money :  we  will  say 
£480  of  present  value.  It  was  bought  so  cheaply 
probably  because  of  its  dilapidated  condition,  for  it 
seems  to  have  been  built  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton  in  1485, 
and  at  this  time  was  "  in  great  ruyne  &  decay 
&  unrepayred."  Shakespeare  thoroughly  renovated 
his  newly-acquired  property,  and  styled  it  '•'  New 
Place." 

He  did  not,  apparently,  at  once  take  up  his  residence 
here,  for  his  theatrical  company  was  acting  before  the 
Queen  at  Whitehall  in  the  spring  and  he  would  doubt- 
less have  been  present,  and  perhaps  accompanied  them 
when  they  were  on  tour  in  Kent  and  Sussex  in  the 
summer.  But  he  was  at  Stratford  a  part  of  the  next 
year,  which  was  a  year  of  scarcity.  He  had  accumulated 
a  large  stock  of  corn,  over  against  the  shortage,  and  in 
a  return  made  of  the  quantity  of  grain  held  in  the 
town  he  held  ten  quarters.  In  the  January  of  this 
year  he  contemplated  buying  some  land  at  Shottery. 
"  Our  countriman,  Mr.  Shaksper,"  wrote  Abraham 
Sturley  to  Richard  Quineyon  January  24th,  "is  willinge 
to  disburse  some  monei  upon  some  od  yarde  land  or 
other  att  Shotterei  or  neare  about  us."  It  would  seem 
that  Shakespeare  did  not,  after  all,  purchase  this  land. 
Perhaps  he  could  not  get  it  a  bargain,  and  what  we 
know  of  his  business  transactions,  small  though  it  may 
be,  all  goes  to  show  that  he  was  a  keen  dealer  and  not 
at  all  likely  to  spend  his  money  rashly. 

This  year  is  remarkable  for  the  ^^Titing  of  a  letter  to 
Shakespeare  by  Richard  Quiney,  the  only  letter  ad- 
dressed to  him  now  in  existence.     It  is  dated  October 

28 


A   LETTER   TO    SHAKESPEARE 

25th  and  addressed  from  Carter  Lane,  in  the  City 
of  London.  Shakespeare  was  apparently  then  at 
Stratford — 

"  To    MY    LOVEINGE    GOOD    FFRENDE    AND    CONTREY- 

MANN  Mr.  Wm.  Shackespere  dlr  thees  : 

"  Loveinge  Contreyman,  I  am  bolde  of  yow,  as  of 
a  ffrende,  craveinge  yowr  helpe  with  xxx  li  uppon 
Mr.  Bushell's  &  my  secm-ytee,  or  Mr.  Myttons  with 
me.  Mr.  Rosswell  is  nott  come  to  London  as  yeate, 
&  I  have  especiall  cawse  yow  shall  ffrende  me  muche 
in  helpeinge  me  out  of  all  the  debettes  I  owe  in  London, 
I  thancke  god,  &  muche  quiet  my  mynde  wch  wolde 
nott  be  indebeted.  I  am  nowe  towardes  the  Cowrte, 
in  hope  of  answer  for  the  dispatche  of  my  Buysenes. 
Yow  shall  nether  loase  credytt  nor  monney  by  me,  the 
Lorde  wyllinge ;  &  nowe  butt  perswade  yowrself  soe, 
as  I  hope,  &  yow  shall  not  need  to  feare  butt  with  all 
hartie  thanckefullenes  I  wyll  holde  my  tyme  &  con- 
tent yowr  ffrende,  &  yf  we  Bargaine  farther,  yow 
shalbe  the  paiem'.  yowrselfe.  My  tyme  biddes  me 
hastene  to  an  ende,  &  soe  I  commit  thys  [to]  yowr 
care,  &  hope  of  your  helpe.  I  feare  I  shall  nott  be 
backe  thys  night  ffrom  the  Cowrte.  Haste.  The 
Lorde  be  with  yow  and  with  vs  all,  amen.  ffrom  the 
Bell  in  Carter  Lane,  the  25th  October,   1598. 

"  Yowrs  in  all  kyndnes 

"  Rye.  Quyney." 

There  is  nothing  to  show  directly  what  was  Shake- 
speare's reply  to  this  request  for  the  loan  of  so  consider- 
able a  sum ;  which,  however,  was  not  the  personal 
matter  it  would  seem  to  be.  Quiney  was  a  substantial 
man,  mercer  and  alderman  of  Stratford,  and  was  in 
London,  incurring  debts  in  the  interests  of  the  town, 

29 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

whose    law    business    he    was    furthering.     He    wanted 
nothing  for  himself. 

It  is  curious  that  this  letter  Avas  discovered  among 
the  town's  papers,  not  among  any  Shakespeare  relics, 
and  it  is  believed  was  never  actually  sent  after  being 
written ;  for  another  letter  is  extant,  addressed  by  one 
of  the  town  council,  Abraham  Sturley,  to  Quiney,  on 
November  4th,  in  which  he  says  :  "  Ur  letter  of  the 
25  October  .  .  .  which  imported  .  .  .  that  our  countri- 
man  Mr.  Wm.  Shak.  would  procure  us  monei.  ..." 
It  would  appear,  therefore,  that  on  the  very  day  he  was 
writing,  Quiney  had  received  assurance  from  Shake- 
speare that  he  would  lend. 

In  1600  Shakespeare's  company  played  before  the 
Queen  at  Whitehall,  and  on  several  occasions  in  1602  : 
their  last  performance  being  at  Richmond  in  Surrey  on 
February  2nd,  1603.  The  following  month  the  great 
Queen  died.  In  1602  Shakespeare  had  been  buying 
land  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Snitterfield  and  Welcombe 
from  the  Combes ;  no  less  than  107  acres,  and  in  suc- 
ceeding years  he  considerably  added  to  it ;  further, 
in  July  1605,  expending  £440  in  the  purchase  of  tithes. 
Early  in  September  1601,  his  father,  John  Shakespeare, 
had  died.  Seven  years  later,  also  in  September,  died 
his  mother.  In  1607,  his  eldest  daughter,  Susanna, 
married  Dr.  John  Hall,  and  on  the  last  day  of  the  same 
year  his  brother  Edmund,  an  actor,  was  buried  in 
St.   Saviour's,   Southwark. 

It  was  in  1609  that  Shakespeare  retired  permanently 
to  Stratford.  He  and  his  players  had  been  honoured 
by  the  new  sovereign  from  the  very  beginning  of  his 
reign ;  but  Shakespeare  now  severed  his  active  connection 
with  the  stage.  In  this  year  his  famous  Sonnets  were 
published,  those  sugared  verses  addressed  to  his  patron, 
the  Eai'l  of  Southampton,  in  which  he  laments  having 

30 


'THE   TEMPEST' 

made  himself  "  a  motley  to  the  view."  Henceforth 
he  would  be  a  country  gentleman  and  dramatic  author, 
and  let  who  would  seek  the  applause  of  the  crowd. 
He  now  wrote  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  whose  induction 
is  permeated  with  local  allusions ;  he  bought  more  land 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Stratford ;  he  kept  some  degree 
of  state  at  New  Place.  In  1611  he  sold  his  shares  in 
the  theatres,  but  in  1612  bought  property  at  Black- 
friars.  Thus  Shakespeare  passed  his  remaining  years. 
As  Rowe,  his  earliest  biographer  says,  they  were 
spent  "  as  all  men  of  good  sense  will  wish  theirs  to 
be ;  in  ease,  retirement,  and  the  conversation  of  his 
friends." 

His  last  dramatic  work.  The  Tempest,  was  written 
in  1611,  and  bears  evidences  of  being  consciously  and 
intentionally  his  last.  It  is  easily  dated,  because  of 
the  references  in  it  to  the  "  still  vex'd  Bermoothes," 
the  Bermuda  islands,  which  were  discovered  by  Admiral 
Sir  George  Somers'  expedition  in  1609.  The  "  discovery  " 
was  made  by  the  Admiral's  ship,  the  Sea  Venture, 
being  driven  in  a  storm  on  the  hitherto  unknown 
islands.  The  disasters,  the  adventures,  and  the  strange 
sights  and  sounds  of  the  isles  were  described  by  Sylvester 
Jourdain,  one  of  the  survivors,  in  an  account  published 
October  1610,  called  "  A  Discovery  of  the  Bermudas, 
otherwise  called  the  Isle  of  Divels." 

Shakespearean  students  find  a  purposeful  solemnity 
in  the  treatment  of  the  play,  and  some  perceive  in  the 
character  of  the  magician,  Prospero,  a  portraiture  of 
himself,  his  work  done,  and  with  a  foreboding  of  his 
end,  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the  brief  span  and  the 
futility  of  life — 

"  We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep." 

31 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

Thus  lie  brings  his  labours  to  an  end — 

"  tliis  rough  magic 
I  liere  abjure  ;  and,  when  1  liave  required 
Some  lieaveuly  music,  (whicli  even  now  I  do,) 

.    .    .  I'll  break  my  staff, 
Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth. 
And",  dee])er  than  did  ever  plummet  sound, 
I'll  drown  my  book." 

The  retirement  of  Shakespeare  rather  curiously 
synchi'onises  with  the  spread  of  Puritanism,  that 
slowly  accumulating  yet  irresistible  force  which,  before 
it  had  expended  its  vigour  and  its  wrath  was  destined  to 
abolish  for  many  years  the  theatre  and  the  actor's 
calling,  and  even  to  behead  a  king  and  work  a  political 
revolution.  The  puritan  leaven  was  working  even  in 
Stratford,  and  in  1602  the  town  council  solemnly  de- 
cided that  stage-plays  Avere  no  longer  to  be  allowed,  and 
that  any  one  who  permitted  them  in  the  town  should 
be  fined  ten  shillings.  This  edict  apparently  became 
a  dead  letter,  but  in  1612  it  was  re-enacted  and  the 
penalt}^  raised  to  £10. 

We  may  perhaps  here  pertinently  inquire :  Did 
Shakespeare  himself  become  a  Puritan  ?  Probably  so 
moderate  and  equable  a  man  as  he  seems  to  have  been 
belonged  to  no  extreme  party ;  but  it  is  to  be  noted  that 
Dr.  John  Hall,  husband  of  his  eldest  daughter,  was  a 
Puritan,  and  that  Susanna  herself  is  described  in  her 
epitaph  as  "  wise  to  salvation,"  which  means  that  she 
also  had  found  the  like  grace. 

In  1614  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  entertained  a 
Puritan  divine  at  New  Place,  according  to  a  somewhat 
ambiguous  account  in  the  Stratford  chamberlain's 
accounts,  in  which  occurs  the  odd  item  :  "  One  quart  of 
sack  and  one  quart  of  claret  wine  given  to  the  preacher 
at  New  Place."  If  we  may  measure  his  preaching  by 
his  drinking,  he  must  have  delivered  poisonously  long 

32 


DEATH   OF   SHAKESPEARE 

sermons.  But  the  town  council  were  connoisseurs  in 
sermons,  just  as  the  council  of  forty  years  earlier  had 
been  patrons  of  the  drama ;  and  they  sought  out  and 
welcomed  preachers,  just  as  their  forbears  had  done 
with  the  actors.  Only  those  divines  do  not  seem  to 
have  been  paid  for  their  services,  except  in  drink.  They 
were  all  thirsty  men,  and  the  council  rewarded  their 
orations  with  the  same  measure  as  given  to  the  preacher 
at  New  Place. 

In  January  1616,  William  Shakespeare  instructed 
his  solicitor  to  draft  his  will.  No  especial  reason  for 
this  settlement  of  his  worldly  affairs  appears  to  be 
recorded.  In  February  his  daughter  Judith  was  married 
to  Thomas  Quiney,  vintner,  son  of  that  Richard  who 
eighteen  years  earlier  had  sought  to  borrow  the  £30. 
In  March  he  was  taken  ill  and  the  draft  will  was  amended 
without  being  fair-copied,  a  sign,  it  may  be  argued,  of 
urgency.  It  bears  date  March  25th,  and  has  three  of 
the  poet's  signatures ;  one  on  each  sheet.  But  he 
lingered  on  until  April  23rd,  dying  on  the  anniversary 
of  his  birthday. 


33 


CHAPTER   V 

Stratford-oii-Avon — It  has  its  own  life,  quite  apart  from  Shakespearean 
associations — Its  people  and  its  streets — Shakespeare  Memorials. 

Stratford-on-Avon  would  be  an  extremely  interesting 
town,  both  historically  and  scenically,  even  without  its 
Shakespearean  interest.  It  does  not  need  association 
with  its  greatest  son  to  stand  forth  easily  among  other 
towns  of  its  size  and  command  admiration.  It  is 
remarkably  unlike  the  mind's  eye  picture  formed  of  it 
by  almost  every  stranger.  You  expect  to  see  a  town 
of  very  narrow  streets,  rather  dull  perhaps  and  with 
little  legitimate  trade,  apart  from  the  sale  of  picture- 
postcards,  fancy  china,  guide-books,  miniature  repro- 
ductions of  the  inevitable  Shakespeare  bust,  and  the 
hundred-and-one  small  articles  that  tourists  buy;  but 
Stratford-on-Avon  is  not  in  the  least  like  that.  It  is 
true  that  with  a  singular  lack  of  humour  there  is  a 
"  Shakespeare  Garage,"  while  we  all  know  that  Shake- 
speare never  owned  a  motor-car;  that  the  bust  is 
represented  in  mosaic  over  the  entrance  to  the  Old 
Bank,  founded  in  1810,  upon  which  Shakespeare  could 
never,  therefore,  have  drawn  a  cheque;  and  that  the 
Shakespeare  Hotel  not  only  bears  the  honoured  name, 
but  also  a  very  large  copy  of  the  bust  over  its  porch, 
and  names  all  its  rooms  after  the  plays.  Honeymoon 
couples,  I  believe,  have  been  given  the  room  called 
Love's  Lahoufs  Lost,  and  Cymbeline,  Midsummer  Nighfs 
Dream  and  many  another  will  astonish  the  guest  at  that 
really  very  fine  and  ancient  hotel.     I  forget  if  there  be 

34 


THE    STRATFORDIANS 

a  bedroom  named  after  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.  If 
so,  it  must  obviously  be  one  of  the  double  rooms  men- 
tioned in  the  tariff. 

They  gave  me  As  you  Like  It,  and  it  was  sufficiently 
comfortable  :  I  liked  it  much.  On  the  other  hand, 
Macbeth  makes  one  fearful  of  insomnia.  "  Macbeth  does 
murder  sleep."  Not  poppy  nor  mandragora — well,  let 
it  be. 

It  is  also  true  that  the  old  market-house,  a  quaint 
isolated  building  of  late  eighteenth  or  early  nineteenth 
century  standing  at  the  junction  of  Wood  and  Henley 
Streets  with  Bridge  Street,  and  now  a  Bank,  has  for 
weather-vane  the  Shakespeare  arms  and  crest  of 
falcon  and  spear;  and  it  is  no  less  undeniable  that  the 
presiding  genius  of  the  place  has  his  manifestations  in 
many  other  directions ;  but  all  these  things,  together 
with  the  several  antique  furniture  and  curio  shops 
where  the  unique  articles — of  which  there  is  but  one 
each  in  the  world — you  purchase  to-day  are  infallibly 
replaced  to-morrow,  are  for  the  benefit  of  the  visitor, 
the  stranger  and  pilgrim.  "  I  was  a  stranger  and  ye 
took  me  in,"  I  murmured  when  the  absolute  replica  of 
the  unmatched  article  I  had  purchased  was  unblushingly 
exposed  for  sale  within  a  day  or  two. 

The  Stratfordian  notices  none  of  these  things  :  they 
are  there,  but  they  don't  concern  him.  You  think  they 
do,  and  that  if  a  suggestion  were  made  that  the  town 
should  be  renamed  "  Shakespeare-on-Avon  "  he  would 
adopt  it  and  be  grateful ;  but  you  would  be  quite  wrong ; 
he  would  not.  If  you  caught  a  hundred  Stratford  people, 
flagrante  delicto,  in  the  pursuit  of  their  daily  business 
and  haled  them  into  the  Guildhall  or  other  convenient 
room  and  set  them  an  examination  paper  on  Shake- 
speare, no  one  would  pass  with  honours.  Why  should 
any  of  them  ?  They  have  grown  up  with  Shakespeare ; 
D  2  35 


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they  accept  him  as  a  fact,  just  as  they  do  the  rising  and 
setting  of  the  sun  and  the  waxing  and  waning  of  the 
moon;  but  they  are  not  interested  in  him  any  more 
than  they  are  in  the  courses  of  those  himinaries.  They 
talk  of  anything  but  Shakespeare,  and  I  have  met  and 
spoken  with  many  who  have  never  been  inside  the 
Birthplace,  or  to  Anne  Hathaway's  Cottage,  or  in  the 
Harvard  House,  or  indeed  to  any  of  the  show-places  in 
and  about  the  town.  They  each  save  about  half  a  guinea 
in  the  aggregate,  but  they  don't  do  so  either  by  way  of 
self-denial  or  economy.     They  are  simply  not  interested. 

Stratford  would  lose  a  very  great  deal  if  the  world 
in  general  were  to  become  as  indifferent  to  the  Swan 
of  Avon;  but  it  would  still  be  a  prosperous  market- 
town,  dependent  upon  the  needs  of  the  surrounding 
agricultural  villages.  Agriculture  has  ever  been  the 
mainstay  of  Stratford,  and  as  far  as  we  can  see,  ever 
will  be.  All  around  in  the  Avon  valley  stretch  those 
rich  pastures  that  still  "  lard  the  rother's  sides,"  and 
on  market  days  there  come  crawling  into  the  streets, 
among  the  cattle  and  the  sheep,  carriers'  carts  from 
many  an  obscure  village,  with  curious  specimens  of 
countryfolk  who  have  not  lost  the  old  habit  of  looking 
upon  Stratford  as  the  centre  of  the  universe.  So  much 
the  better  for  Stratford.  "  'Tain't  much  as  I  waants," 
said  one  to  the  present  writer,  "  an'  I  rackon  I  can  get 
it  at  Stratford  'most  as  good  as  anywheer  else.  Be- 
sides, I  du  like  to  come  to  town  sometimes,  an'  see  a 
bit  of  life." 

One  can,  in  fact,  see  a  good  deal  of  life  in  the  town, 
but  the  liveliest  time — quite  apart  from  the  Shakespeare 
Festival,  which  is  exotic  and  mostly  for  visitors — is  the 
Mop  Fair,  much  more  familiarly  known  as  "  Stratford 
Mop."  This  annual  event  is  held  somewhat  too  late 
for  the  average  visitor's  convenience;  on  October  12th, 

37 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

when  the  tourists  have  mostly  gone  home.  It  is  the 
great  hiring-fair  for  farm  servants  and  others  :  perhaps 
we  had  better  say,  was,  for  the  hiring  has  almost  wholly 
fallen  into  disuse,  together  with  the  so-called  "  Run- 
away Mop,"  of  a  fortnight  after,  at  which  the  servants 
already  hired  and  not  pleased  with  their  bargain  might 
re-engage. 

I  think  the  average  visitor  might  not,  after  all,  be 
pleased  with  Stratford  Mop,  which  is  in  some  ways  a 
very  barbarous  affair ;  the  chief  barbarity  of  course  being 
the  roasting  of  oxen  whole  in  the  streets;  a  loathly 
spectacle,  and  not  one  calculated  to  increase  respect 
for  our  ancestors,  whose  great  idea  of  fit  merry-making 
for  very  special  occasions  was  this  same  roasting  of 
cattle  whole  and  making  the  public  conduits  run  wine. 
The  last  sounds  better,  but  from  the  accounts  preserved 
of  the  wine  dispersed  at  such  times  we  know  that  the 
quantity  was  meagre  and  the  quality  exceedingly  poor. 

But  the  vast  crowds  resorting  to  Stratford  for  the 
Mop  see  nothing  gruesome  in  the  spectacle.  Special 
trains  run  from  numerous  places,  and  all  the  showmen 
in  the  country  seem  to  have  hurried  up  for  the  event. 

The  streets  of  Stratford  are  broad  and  pleasant,  with 
a  large  proportion  of  ancient  houses  still  left;  half- 
timbered  fronts  side  by  side  with  more  or  less  modern 
brick  and  plaster,  behind  which  often  lurks  a  rich  old 
interior,  unknown  to  the  casual  passer-by.  Sometimes 
a  commonplace  frontage  is  removed,  revealing  unex- 
pected beauty  in  an  enriched  half-timber  framing  which 
the  odd  vagaries  in  taste  of  bygone  generations  have 
caused  to  be  thus  hidden.  There  is  in  this  way  a 
speculative  interest  always  attaching  to  structural 
alterations  in  the  town.  In  this  chance  fashion  the 
fine  timbering  of  the  so-called  "  Tudor  House  "  was 
uncovered  in  1903,  and  other  instances  might  be  given. 

38 


BRIDGE    STREET 

Recently,  also,  Nash's  House  has  been  completely 
refronted,  in  fifteenth  century  style,  wholly  in  oak. 
In  fact,  we  might  almost  declare  that  Stratford  is  now 
architecturalh%  after  many  years,  reverting  to  the  like 
of  the  town  Shakespeare  knew.  And  if  the  modernised 
house-fronts  were  systematically  stripped,  among  them 
that  occupied  by  Messrs.  W.  H.  Smith  &  Son  at  the 
corner  of  High  Street  and  Bridge  Street,  the  house 
occupied  for  many  years  by  Judith  Shakespeare  and 
her  husband,  Thomas  Quiney,  the  vintner,  Stratford 
would  become  greatly  transformed. 

But  the  mention  of  Bridge  Street  is  a  reminder  that 
here  at  any  rate  a  great  change  has  been  made.  It  is 
the  widest  of  all  the  streets,  and  is  in  fact  a  very  wilder- 
ness of  width.  All  the  winds  that  sport  about  the 
neighbourhood  seem  to  have  their  home  in  Bridge 
Street.  Your  hat  always  blows  off  when  you  turn  the 
corner  into  it,  and  the  dust  and  homeless  straws  go 
wandering  up  and  down  its  emptiness,  seeking  rest  in 
the  Avon  over  the  Clopton  Bridge,  but  always  blown 
back.  Now  Bridge  Street  was  not  always  like  this. 
In  Shakespeare's  time,  and  until  1858,  when  the  last 
of  it  was  cleared  away,  a  kind  of  island  of  old  houses 
occupied  part  of  this  roadway.  It  was  called  "  Middle 
Row."  Such  a  collection  of  houses  was  the  usual 
feature  of  old  English  towns.  There  was  an  example 
in  London,  in  Holborn,  with  exactly  the  same  name; 
but  it  disappeared  somewhat  earlier  than  its  Stratford 
namesake.  Pictures  survive  of  this  Bridge  Street  land- 
mark. I  think  a  good  many  Stratford  people  regret  it, 
but  regrets  will  not  bring  it  back.  We  think  of  the 
irrevocable,  and  of  Herrick's  witch — 

"  Old  Widow  Prowse,  to  do  her  neighbours  evil. 
Has  given,  some  say,  her  soul  unto  ye  Devill  ; 
But  wlien  sh  'as  killed  that  horse,  cow,  pig,  or  hen, 
What  would  she  give  to  get  that  soul  again  ?  " 

39 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

But  the  Stratford  folk,  unlike  Widow  Prowse,  did  their 
spiriting  with  the  best  intentions.  Unfortunately,  good 
intentions  notoriously  pave  the  way  to  hot  corners. 

It  was  a  very  picturesque  old  row,  with  the  "  Swan  " 
inn  hanging  out  its  sign ;  and  perhaps,  in  these  times 
of  reconstructions,  it  may  even  yet  be  rebuilt,  after 
the  evidences  of  it  that  exist. 

In  Bridge  Street  is  another  landmark  in  the  way  of 
literary  associations.  The  "  Red  Horse  "  hotel  has  a 
large,  dull  and  uninteresting  plaster  front,  but  American 
visitors  find  the  house  attractive  on  account  of  Washing- 
ton Irving' s  stay  there  about  a  hundred  years  ago,  when 
he  was  writing  of  Shakespeare  and  Shakespeare's  country. 
The  sitting-room  he  occupied  is  kept  somewhat  as  a 
shrine  to  his  memory,  and  the  chair  he  fancifully  called 
his  "  throne  "  is  still  there,  but  you  may  not  sit  in  it. 
It  is  kept  under  lock  and  key,  in  a  cupboard  with  glass 
doors.  The  poker  he  likened  to  his  sceptre  is  kept 
jealously  in  the  bar.  Citizens  of  the  United  States  ask 
to  see  it,  and  it  is  reverently  produced  and  unfolded  from 
the  many  swathings  of  "  Old  Glory  "  in  which  it  is 
enwrapped  :  "  Old  Glory "  being,  it  is  necessary  to 
explain  to  Britishers,  the  United  States  flag,  the  "  stars 
and  stripes."  Gazing  upon  it,  they  see  that  it  is  en- 
graved with  a  dedicatory  inscription  by  another  citizen 
of  the  U.S.A. 

If  you  proceed  down  Bridge  Street  you  come  presently 
to  the  Clopton  Bridge  that  crosses  the  Avon,  and  so  out 
of  the  town.  The  bridge  is  one  of  the  many  works  of 
public  utility  and  practical  piety  executed,  instituted, 
or  ordained  in  his  will  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  the  greatest 
benefactor  Stratford  has  known.  A  scion  of  that 
numerous  family,  seated  at  Clopton  House  a  mile  out 
of  the  town,  he,  went  to  London  and  prospered  as  a 
mercer,    becoming     Lord     Mayor     in    1492.     Leland, 

40 


CLOPTON   BRIDGE 

writing  in  1532,  quaintly  tells  of  him  and  his  bridge  : 
"  Hugh  Clopton  aforesaid  made  also  the  great  and 
sumptuous  Bridge  upon  Avon,  at  the  East  ende  of 
the  Towne,  which  hath  14  great  Arches  of  stone  and 
a  long  Causey  made  of  Stone,  lowe  walled  on  each  syde, 
at  the  West  Ende  of  the  Bridge.  Afor  the  tyme  of 
Hugh  Clopton  there  was  but  a  poore  Bridge  of  Tymbre, 
and  no  Causey  to  come  to  it ;  whereby  many  poore 
Folkes  and  others  refused  to  come  to  Stratford  when 
Avon  was  up,  or  comminge  thither,  stood  in  jeopardye  of 
Lyfe.  The  Bridge  ther  of  late  tyme,"  he  proceeds  to  say, 
"  was  very  smalle  and  ille,  and  at  high  Waters  very 
hard  to  come  by.  Whereupon,  in  tyme  of  mynde,  one 
Clopton  a  very  rich  Marchant  and  Mayr  of  London, 
as  I  remember,  borne  about  Strateforde,  having  neither 
Wife  nor  Children,  converted  a  great  Peace  of  his 
Substance  in  good  workes  at  Stratford,  first  making 
a  sumptuus  new  Bridge  and  large  of  Stone  wher  in 
the  midle  be  a  VI  great  Arches  for  the  main  Streame 
of  Avon,  and  at  cache  Ende  certen  small  Arches  to 
bere  the  Causey,  and  so  to  pass  commodiously  at  such 
tymes  as  the  Ryver  riseth," 

The  bridge  was  widened  in  1814.  I  do  not  think 
that  great  benefactor  of  Stratford  intended  that  tolls 
should  be  charged  for  passing  over  his  bridge,  but  in 
the  course  of  time,  such  charges  were  made,  and  the 
very  large  and  imposing  toll -house  that  remains  shows 
us  that  it  is  not  so  very  long  since  the  bridge  has  been 
freed  again. 

There  are  many  who  consider  the  Harvard  House  to 
be  the  most  delightful  piece  of  ancient  domestic  work 
in  the  town,  and  it  is  indeed  a  gem.  The  history  of  it 
is  absolutely  clear.  It  was  built  in  1596  by  one  Thomas 
Rogers,  alderman.  His  initials  and  those  of  his  wife 
Alice,  together  with  the  date  are  still  to  be  seen,  carved 

41 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

on  the  woodwork  beneath  the  first-floor  window.  The 
carved  brackets  supporting  the  first  floor  represent  the 
Warwick  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff  and  the  bull  of  the 
Nevilles.  The  bull  is  easily  recognisable,  but  the  bear 
is  only  to  be  identified  after  considerable  study,  and 
looks  a  good  deal  more  like  a  pig.  Katharine  Rogers, 
daughter  of  the  builders  of  this  house,  married  Robert 
Harvard  of  South wark,  butcher,  in  1605.  Almost 
everything  in  Stratford  pivots  upon  Shakespeare,  or 
is  made  to  do  so,  and  it  is  therefore  not  difficult  to 
imagine  Rogers'  beautiful  little  dwelling  being  erected 
here  at  the  very  time  when  Shakespeare  was  contem- 
plating purchasing  New  Place,  and  the  dramatist's 
interest  in  it.  Rogers,  being,  like  John  Shakespeare 
on  the  town  council,  must  have  been  very  closely 
acquainted  with  the  family.  The  Rev.  John  Harvard, 
son  of  Robert  and  Katharine,  emigrated  to  the  New 
England  States  of  America  in  1637  and  died  of  con- 
sumption the  following  year,  at  Charleston,  leaving 
one  half  of  his  estate,  which  realised  £779  17*.  2d!., 
together  with  his  library  of  over  300  volumes,  to  a 
college  then  in  contemplation;  the  present  Harvard 
University  at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  described  as 
the  oldest  and  among  the  richest  seats  of  learning  in 
the  United  States;  although  the  "learning"  displayed 
there  has  not  yet  hatched  out  any  world-shaking  genius ; 
genius  being,  as  we  who  visit  Stratford  cannot  fail  to 
see,  a  quality  quite  independent  of  the  academies,  and 
springing,  fully-equipped  to  do  battle  with  the  world, 
in  the  most  unpromising  places. 

It  is  not  long  since  the  Harvard  House  was  restored 
and  dedicated  to  the  public,  and  particularly  to  the 
use  of  Harvard  students ;  in  October  1909,  to  be  precise. 
It  had  passed  through  various  hands,  and  finally  was 
offered   for   sale   by   auction.     The   biddings  failed   to 

42 


9iW«swt«Kfe«aMB«-ir~^-;*»j*!»w»«-«*'- :-    -■' 


THE    HARVAKD    HOUSE. 


[To  fare  p.  42. 


SHAKESPEARE   MEMORIALS 

reach  the  reserve  price  and  the  property  was  withdrawn 
at  £950,  Chicago,  in  the  person  of  a  wealthy  native 
of  that  place,  came  to  the  rescue,  and  it  was  privately 
bought  for  the  purpose  of  converting  it  into  a  "  house 
of  call,"  whatever  that  may  be,  for  Americans  touring 
this  district,  and  especially,  as  already  noted,  for  students 
of  Harvard — -who  obtain  admission  free.  Other  persons 
pay  sixpence. 

It  is  a  place  of  very  great  seclusion,  for  Harvard 
students  (who  mostly  study  the  more  lethal  forms  of 
football  and  baseball  nowadays)  are  rare;  and  I  guess 
if  you  want  to  track  the  Americans  in  Stratford,  you 
must  go  to  the  Shakespeare  Hotel,  anyway,  or  to  the 
"  Red  Horse."  The  house  was  in  the  occupation  of  a 
firm  of  auctioneers  and  land  agents  until  the  purchase. 
The  "  restoration  "  of  the  exterior  has  been  very  carefully 
and  conservatively  done,  and  the  interior  discloses  some 
particularly  beautiful  half-timbered  rooms. 

From  time  to  time  it  seems  good  to  amiable  and  well- 
meaning  persons  to  set  up  "  Shakespeare  memorials  " 
in  Stratford,  and  it  is  equally  amiable  in  the  town  to 
accept  them.  Thus  we  see  in  Rother  Street  an  ornate 
gothic  drinking-fountain  and  clock-tower,  the  "  American 
Memorial  Fountain,"  given  in  1887  by  that  wealthy 
Shakespearean  collector,  George  W.  Childs,  proprietor 
of  the  Philadelphia  Ledger.  It  includes  also  the  func- 
tion of  a  memorial  of  the  first  Victorian  Jubilee.  Shake- 
spearean quotations  adorn  it,  including  the  apposite 
one  from  Thnon  of  Athens :  "  Honest  water,  which 
ne'er  left  man  i'  th'  mire." 

But  Shakespeare  serves  the  turn  of  every  man,  and 
if  you  like  your  beer,  you  can  set  against  this  the  equally 
Shakespearean  quotation,  "  A  quart  of  ale  is  a  dish  for 
a  king." 

The  Memorial  Fountain  rather  misses  being  stately, 

43 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

and  it  would  be  better  if  the  quarter  chimes  of  its  clock 
did  not  hurry  so  over  their  business,  as  if  they  wanted 
life  to  go  quicker,  and  time  itself  to  be  done  with.  Amity 
is  the  note  of  Mr.  Childs'  fountain,  and  the  "  merry 
songs  of  peace  "  are  the  subject  of  one  of  the  carved 
quotations  :  that  is  why  the  British  Lion  and  the 
American  Eagle  alternate  in  effigy  at  the  angles,  support- 
ing their  respective  national  shields  of  arms.  The, 
British  Lion  looks  tame  and  the  American  Eagle  is  a 
weird  fowl  wearing  the  chastened  "  dearly  beloved 
brethren  "  expression  of  a  preacher  at  a  camp  meeting. 

The  Shakespeare  Memorial  by  the  riverside  is  the 
partial  realisation  of  a  project  first  considered  in  1769, 
at  the  jubilee  presided  over  by  Garrick,  revived  in  1821 
and  again  in  1864.  This  was  an  idea  for  a  national 
memorial,  to  include  a  school  of  acting  :  possibly  with 
Shakespeare's  own  very  excellent  advice  to  actors, 
which  he  placed  in  the  mouth  of  Hamlet,  set  up  in 
gilded  words  of  wisdom  in  its  halls.  The  school  for 
actors  has  not  yet  come  into  being,  but  at  the  annual 
festivals,  when  Shakespearean  companies  take  the  boards 
in  the  theatre  which  forms  a  prominent  part  of  the 
Memorial,  you  may  witness  quaint  new  readings  of  the 
dramatist's  intentions. 

The  great  pile  of  buildings  standing  by  the  beautiful 
Bancroft  gardens,  in  fine  grounds  of  its  own  beside  the 
river,  "  comprises,"  as  auctioneers  and  house  agents 
might  say,  the  theatre  aforesaid,  a  library,  and  picture 
gallery.  It  was  built  1877-79  from  funds  raised  by  a 
Memorial  Association  founded  by  Mr.  Charles  E.  Flower 
of  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  very  widely  supported.  The 
architect,  W.  F.  Unsworth,  whose  name  does  not  seem 
to  be  very  generally  known,  has  produced  a  very  im- 
posing, and  on  the  whole,  satisfactory  composition, 
whose   shape   was   largely  determined   by  that   of  the 

44 


THE   THEATRE 

original  Globe  Theatre  of  Shakespeare's  own  time  in 
Southwark.  It  is  of  red  brick  and  stone,  and  a  distinct 
ornament  to  the  town  and  the  riverside,  although  its 
gothic  appears  to  have  here  and  there  a  rather  Con- 
tinental flavour.  A  little  more  pronounced,  it  might 
seem  almost  Rhenish.  But  let  us  be  sufficiently  thankful 
the  Memorial  did  not  take  shape  in  Garrick's  day,  when 
it  would  certainly  have  assumed  some  terrible  neo- 
classic  form.  There  are  some  particularly  good  and 
charming  gargoyles  over  the  entrance,  notably  that  of 
Puck  carrying  that  ass's  head  with  which  Bottom  the 
Weaver  was  "  translated,"  in  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream. 
A  sketch  of  it  appears  on  the  title-page  of  this  book. 
I  do  not  think  a  description  of  the  theatre,  the  library, 
or  the  picture  gallery  would  serve  the  object  of  these 
pages,  and  I  do  not  propose  to  describe  the  monument 
designed,  executed  and  presented  by  Lord  Ronald 
Gower,  because  that  is  done  in  every  guide-book,  and 
because  I  do  not  like  that  extremely  amateurish  and 
flagrantly-overpraised  work  :  may  the  elements  speedily 
obliterate  it  ! 

Quick-growing  poplars  have  reached  great  heights 
since  the  buildings  were  first  opened,  and  the  Theatre 
and  Memorial  is  being  rapidly  obscured  by  them.  It 
looks  its  best  from  the  Clopton  Bridge,  and  combines 
with  Holy  Trinity  church  to  render  the  town,  viewed 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Avon,  a  place  of  considerable 
majesty  and  romance. 

Crossing  either  that  ancient  bridge  to  the  "  Swan's 
Nest  "  inn  which  has  become  subdued  to  the  poetry  in 
the  Stratford  air  and  has  abandoned  its  old  name,  the 
"  Shoulder  of  Mutton,"  we  may  roam  the  meadows 
opposite  the  town.  Or  we  may  equally  well  cross 
the  river  by  the  long  and  narrow  red  brick  tramway 
bridge,  built  in  1826  for  the  purposes  of  the  Stratford- 

45 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

on-Avon  and  Shipston-on-Stour  Tramway  :  an  ill-fated 
but  heroic  project  that  immediately  preceded  steam 
railways.  The  Great  Western  Railway  appears  to  have 
some  ownership  in  the  bridge,  and  by  notice  threatens 


HOLY    TRINITY    CHURCH,    STRATFORD-ON-AVON, 

awful  penalties — something  a  little  less  than  eternal 
punishment — to  those  who  look  upon — or  cycle  upon 
—it. 

Somehow  we  reach  those  free  and  open  meadows  over 
against  the  town  where  the  Avon  runs  broad  and  deep 
down  to  the  mill  and  the  ruined  lock,  just  opposite  the 
church.     It  is  from  these  meadows  that  the  accompany- 

46 


THE  AVON 

ing  drawing  of  the  church  was  taken.  The  breadth  of 
the  river  between  the  Clopton  Bridge  and  the  church 
is  exceptional,  and  gives  a  great  nobihty  to  the 
town.  Both  above  and  below  these  points  it  becomes 
much  narrower,  and  the  navigation  down  stream 
is  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  Avon  down  to  Binton 
and  up  beyond  Charlecote  is,  in  fact,  rendered  im- 
passable by  difficulties  created  by  the  Luc}^  family  of 
Charlecote,  and  by  the  Earl  of  Warwick.  Private 
ownership  in  navigable  or  semi-navigable  streams  is  an 
ancient  and  complicated  affair  concerned  with  rights  of 
fishing,  of  weirs  and  mill-leets,  and  other  abstruse  and 
immemorial  manorial  privileges,  and  it  has  furnished 
the  lawyers  with  many  a  fat  brief.  It  has  cost  the 
Corporation  of  Stratford-on-Avon  £700  in  recent  years, 
in  a  dispute  about  this  ruined  lock  and  the  impeded 
access  to  the  river  past  the  church  and  the  mill,  to  the 
other  decayed  lock  at  Luddington.  The  Lucys  gained 
the  day,  and  that  is  why  we  cannot  go  boating  down 
the  river  from  Stratford. 

We  may  cross  the  stream  just  below  this  point,  by 
a  footbridge,  and  come  into  the  town  again  past  the 
big  corn-mill  whose  ancient  ownership  caused  all  this 
trouble.  The  present  building  is  only  about  a  century 
old,  but  it  is  the  representative  of  the  original  mill  that 
stood  on  this  spot  over  a  thousand  years  ago,  and 
belonged  then  and  long  afterwards  to  the  Bishops  of 
Worcester.  The  exquisite  humour  of  the  manorial  law 
ordained  not  only  that  the  people  of  Stratford  were 
under  obligation  to  have  their  corn  ground  here,  but 
that  they  were  also  made  to  pay  for  it.  And  as  com- 
petitive millers  were  thus  barred,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  corn-milling  was  an  expensive  item.  The  old 
churchmen  loved  eels,  useful  for  Friday's  dish,  and  the 
Bishops  of  Worcester  were  sometimes  accustomed    to 

47 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

take  consignments  of  them  in  place  of  money  payments 
for  use  of  the  mill. 

The  possibilities  of  the  Avon  in  the  matter  of  floods 
are  very  eloquently  set  forth  on  the  walls  of  this  mill  : 
the  astonishing  high-water  marks  of  floods  for  a  century 
past  being  marked.  Scanning  them,  it  seems  strange 
that  mill  and  church  and  a  good  part  of  the  town  itself 
have  not  been  washed  away. 

Passing  through  Old  Town  into  Church  Street,  the 
fine  Elizabethan  three-gabled  residence  seen  on  the 
way,  on  the  right  hand,  is  Hall's  Croft,  the  home  of 
Dr.  John  Hall,  Susanna  Shakespeare's  husband,  before 
they  removed  to  New  Place  following  upon  Shakespeare's 
death.  The  old  mulberry-tree  in  the  beautiful  garden 
at  the  back  of  the  house  is  said  to  have  been  planted 
by  her. 


48 


.K. 


CHAPTER   VI 

Shakespeare's  Birthplace — Restoration,  of  sorts — The  husiuess  of  the 
Showman — Tlie  Birthplace  Museum — The  Shakespearean  garden. 

To  Henley  Street  most  visitors  to  Stratford-on-Avon  first 
turn  their  steps ;  a  little  disappointed  to  discover  that 
it  is  by  no  means  the  best  street  in  the  town  and  must 
have  been  rather  a  poor  outskirt  at  the  time  when  John 
Shakespeare  came  in  from  Snitterfield,  to  set  up  business 
in  a  small  way.  There  is,  as  the  sentimental  pilgrim 
will  very  soon  discover  for  himself,  a  plentiful  lack  of 
sentiment  nowadays  in  the  business  of  showing  Shake- 
speare's Birthplace.  For  it  is  a  business,  and  conducted 
as  it  is  on  extremely  hard-headed  lines,  yields  a  consider- 
able profit ;  a  profit  disposed  of  strictly  according  to 
the  terms  on  which  the  Shakespeare's  Birthplace  Trust 
is  defined  in  its  Parliamentary  powers.  Enough  has 
already  been  said  to  show  the  sensitive  soul  that  his 
sensibilities  are  apt  to  be  extremely  tried  when  he  comes 
this  way ;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  there  can  be  but  a  small 
proportion  of  such  among  the  40,000  persons  who 
annually  pay  their  sixpences  (and  another  to  see  the 
Birthplace  Museum  next  door).  Sometimes,  when  the 
dog-star  rages  and  tourists  most  do  gad  about,  a  solid 
phalanx  of  visitors,  each  provided  with  his  ticket  from 
the  office  down  the  street,  will  be  found  lined  up, 
waiting,  like  the  queues  outside  the  London  theatres, 
for  earlier  arrivals  to  be  quickly  disposed  of.  The  bloom 
of  sentiment,  as  delicate  as  that  upon  a  plum  or  peach, 
E  49 


THE   BIRTHPLACE 

is  rudely  rubbed  off  by  these  things,  by  rules  and  regula- 
tions and  the  numbered  ticket ;  but  the  very  fame  of 
Shakespeare  and  the  increasing  number  of  visitors  who 
have,  or  think  they  have — or  at  the  very  least  of  it  think 
they  ought  to  have — an  intelligent  interest  in  a  great 
man's  birthplace  brings  about  this  horrid  nemesis  of 
the  professional  showman. 

If  you  be  a  little  exacting,  and  would  keep  the  full 
freshness,  the  sweetest  savour  of  hero-worship,  be  con- 
tent not  to  see  the  Birthplace,  and  especially  not  that 
garden  at  the  back  of  it.  It  was  not,  you  know  it  quite 
well,  in  the  least  like  this  when  John  Shakespeare  lived 
here  and  had  his  wool-store  next  door,  where  the  Birth- 
place Museum  is  now,  and  sometimes  bought  and  sold 
corn  or  carried  on  the  trade  of  glover.  The  place  has 
had  so  many  changes  of  fortune,  the  appearance  of  the 
exterior  itself  has  been  so  utterly  changed  and  so  con- 
jecturally  restored,  that  the  thinking  man  loses  a  good 
deal  of  confidence.  And  the  interior  :  the  rooms 
without  furniture  or  sign  of  habitation  are  like  a  body 
whence  the  soul  has  fled. 

The  building  did  not,  for  one  thing,  stand  alone  as  it 
does  now,  the  houses  on  either  side  having  been  pulled 
down  after  it  was  purchased  in  1848 ;  with  the,  of  course, 
entirely  admirable  idea  of  the  better  lessening  its  risk 
from  fire.  The  effect,  and  that  of  the  hedges  with  their 
hairpin  railings,  is  to  give  the  place  the  very  superior 
appearance  of  a  private  house.  If  old  John  Shakespeare 
could  be  summoned  back  and  taken  for  a  walk  along 
Henley  Street,  he  would  be  surprised  at  many  things, 
but  by  none  more  than  by  the  odd  disappearance  of 
every  man's  midden  and  the  altered  appearance  of  his 
own  house.  He  would  wonder  what  had  become  of  his 
shop,  and  assume  no  doubt  that  the  occupier  had  made 
his  fortune  and   retired   into   private  life.     He   would 

E  2  51 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

not  know  that  it  is  still  a  place  of  business,  and  among  the 
best-paying  ones  in  Stratford,  too. 

William  Shakespeare  succeeded  to  the  property  of  his 
father,  and  in  his  turn  willed  this  Henley  Street  dwelling- 
house  to  his  sister,  Joan  Hart,  for  life.  She  had  become 
a  widow  a  few  days  only  before  his  death,  but  herself 
survived  until  1646.  The  woolshop — now  the  Museum 
part — he  left  to  his  daughter  Susanna,  who  on  the  death 
of  her  aunt  came  into  possession  of  all  the  building.  At 
her  decease,  being  the  last  descendant  of  her  father,  she 
willed  it  to  Thomas  Hart,  the  grandson  of  her  aunt,  Joan 
Hart.  From  him  it  descended  to  his  brother  George, 
who  in  his  own  lifetime  gave  it  to  his  son,  Shakespeare 
Hart,  whose  widow  passed  it  on  to  another  George  Hart, 
nephew  of  her  late  husband.  In  1778  George  was 
gathered  to  his  fathers  and  Thomas,  his  son,  reigned  in 
his  stead ;  in  1793  leaving  what  had  been  the  woolshop 
to  his  son  John  and  the  Birthplace  to  his  son  Thomas, 
who  three  years  later  made  over  his  share  to  his  brother 
John.  On  the  death  of  this  person  in  1800  the  property 
passed  to  his  wife  for  the  remainder  of  her  life,  and  then 
to  his  three  children,  as  co-partners.  Since  early  in  the 
eighteenth  century  it  had  been  mortgaged  up  to  the 
hilt,  and  the  three  partners  were  practically  obliged  to 
sell  in  1806.  Thus  the  last  remote  link  with  Shakespeare's 
kin  was  severed.  Thomas  Court,  the  purchaser,  died  in 
1818,  and  on  the  death  of  his  wife  in  1847  the  house  was 
purchased  by  public  subscription,  on  behalf  of  the  nation. 
This  transaction  was  completed  in  the  following  year, 
at  a  cost  of  £3000,  the  purchase  being  in  1866  handed 
over  to  the  Corporation  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  who  held 
it  in  trust  until  the  incorporation  of  the  Shakespeare 
Birthplace  Trust  in  1891. 

In  all  this  time  the  structure  suffered  many  changes, 
the    former    M'oolshop    being    o^Dened    as    an     inn,    the 

52 


RESTORATION— OF   SORTS 

"  Maidenhead,"  even  in  Shakespeare's  own  time,  1603. 
Later  it  became  the  "  Swan  and  Maidenhead,"  and  had 
its  front  new-faced  with  brick  in  1808.  Meanwhile, 
the  Birthplace  had  in  1784  become  a  butcher's  shop, 
hanging  out  the  sign  board  "  The  immortal  Shake- 
speare was  born  in  this  house."  In  the  course  of  these 
changes  the  dormer  windows  had  disappeared,  about 
1800,  and  the  whole  was  in  a  very  dilapidated  state. 
The  restoration  work  of  1857-58,  renewing  the  vanished 
dormers  in  the  roof,  pulling  down  the  brick  front  and 
reinstating  a  timber-framed  elevation,  and  generally 
placing  the  building  again  in  a  weather-proof  condition, 
cost  nearly  a  further  £3000. 

Photographs  scarcely  give  a  correct  impression  of  the 
exterior  as  thus  restored.  They  reproduce  the  form,  but 
not  the  true  tone  and  quality  of  the  timber  and  plaster, 
and  in  truth  they  make  the  house  look  better  than  it  is. 
The  quality  of  the  exterior  materials  is  not  convincing 
and  makes  the  house  look  very  unauthentically  new. 
The  timbers  and  the  plaster  may  be  even  better  than  they 
were  in  John  Shakespeare's  time,  but  we  do  not  wish 
them  to  be,  and  there  is  a  spruceness  and  a  kind  of 
parlourmaidenly  neatness  about  the  place  which  we  feel 
quite  sure  the  man  who  was  fined  for  having  a  muck- 
heap  in  front  of  his  house,  and  for  not  keeping  his  gutter 
clean  never  knew.  Painted  woodwork,  mathematically 
true,  and  the  kind  of  plaster  facing  we  see  here  were 
unknown  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries. 
Roughly  split  oak  formed  both  interior  and  exterior 
framing  to  John  Shakespeare's  house,  and  the  houses 
of  his  neighbours,  and  it  was  only  in  Victorian  times  that 
the  neatness  and  the  soullessness  expressed  here  became 
the  obsession  of  craftsmen.  In  short,  they  do  these 
things  much  more  convincingly  to-day  at  Earl's  Court. 

Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie,  who  is  a  very  much  greater 

53 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

person  than  Columbus  and  discovered  America  in  the 
monetary  sense,  while  Columbus  only  added  to  his 
geographical  knowledge  and  not  to  his  wealth,  has  also 
discovered  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  has  generously  given 
the  town  a  public  library  and  the  Trustees  of  the  Birth- 
place two  old  cottages,  all  in  Henley  Street.  At  the 
offices  you  purchase  tickets  for  the  Birthplace  and  the 


THE    KITCHEN,    SHAKESPEARE  S    BIRTHPLACE. 


Birthplace  Museum,  and  may  well,  before  doing  so,  look 
into  that  public  library,  formed  out  of  one  of  those 
ancient  timber -framed  houses  Stratford  is  fortunate 
enough  to  possess  in  profusion.  It  is  a  charmingly 
remodelled  building,  very  well  worth  inspection. 

But  let  us  to  the  Birthplace.  At  the  door  we  are 
met  by  a  caretaker.  If  it  be  late  in  the  day  he  will 
be  a  little,  or  possibly  very,  husky.  In  any  case  he  is 
hurried.     He  hastens  us  into  a  stone-floored  room  in 

54 


SHOWMEN 

which  a  multitude  of  people  are  already  waiting.  They 
look  as  if  they  were  attending  an  inquest,  or,  at  the  best 
of  it,  a  seance,  and  expected  every  moment  to  be  called 
upon  to  view  the  body,  or  to  hear  knockings  or  see 
ghostly  shapes.  He  shuts  the  door.  It  is  a  solemn 
moment,  and  in  the  passing  of  it  we  do  actually  hear 
knockings,  loud  and  impatient — but  they  are  not  spirits 
from  the  vasty  deep  :  only  other  and  impatient  visitors 
who  have  paid  their  sixpences.     But  they  must  wait. 

"  This  is  the  house  where  Shakespeare  was  born. 
You  will  be  shown  presently  the  actual  room  where  he 
was  born,  upstairs." 

"  It  became  a  butcher's  shop  afterwards,  didn't  it  ?  " 
asks  some  one.  The  showman  looks  grieved  :  the 
interruption  throws  him  out  of  gear,  like  a  bent  penny 
in  a  slot  machine.  Besides,  it  isn't  in  the  programme. 
"  You  must  excuse  me,  sir,  and  not  keep  people  waiting. 
This  was  the  living  room.  The  chimney  corner  remains 
exactly  as  it  was  when  Shakespeare  was  a  boy.  Have 
you  tickets  for  the  Museum  ?  Those  who  have  will  go 
through  that  door  to  the  right.  This  room  at  the  back 
is  the  kitchen.  If  you  will  ascend  the  staircase,  you 
will  be  shown  the  birth-room.     Mind  the  step." 

A  dark  steep  climb,  and  a  narrow  passage  leads  into 
the  former  front  bedroom.  It  is  almost  entirely  bare, 
only  an  old  chair  or  two  and  an  old  coffer  emphasising 
its  nakedness.  The  rough  plaster  walls  and  the  ceiling 
are  appallingly  dirty;  Mrs.  Shakespeare  would  be  tho- 
roughly ashamed  of  it,  if  she  could  but  revisit  her  home. 
A  plaster  cast  of  the  inevitable  Shakespeare  bust  stands 
in  the  room,  sometimes  on  the  coffer,  and  sometimes 
on  a  spindly-legged  table,  and  looks  with  serene  amuse- 
ment upon  the  proceedings.  The  old  person  who  used 
to  show  the  birth-room  has  apparently  been  superseded. 
She  used  to  patronise  the  bust,  and  afforded  some  people 

55 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

much  secret  amusement.  "  Plenty  room  'ere  for  the 
mighty  brain,"  she  would  say,  drawing  her  hand  across 
that  broad  and  lofty  brow ;  "  there  will  never  be  more 
than  one  Shakespeare,  sir."  The  present  attendants 
have  less  time  for  that  kind  of  thing,  and  hurry  on  with 
their  mechanical  tale.  Why  don't  the  Trustees  econo- 
mise, and  get  a  gramophone  ?    "  This  is  the  room  where 


THE    ROOM    IN    WHICH    SHAKESPEARE    WAS    BORN. 

Shakespeare  was  born.  The  furniture  you  see  does  not 
belong  to  his  time.  Some  of  the  glass  in  the  window  is 
original ;  you  can  tell  it  by  the  green  tint.  Them  laths, 
sir,  in  the  ceiling  ?  They're  iron,  and  put  up  to  preserve 
the  original  ceiling.  No  one  is  allowed  in  the  room 
above.  The  ceiling  and  the  walls,  as  you  will  observe, 
are  covered  with  names.  Before  visitors'  books  were 
provided,  visitors  were  invited  to  Avrite  their  names 
here.  You  will  see  that  they  have  fully  availed  them- 
selves of  the  privilege,   and  those   who   had  diamond 

56 


A   YEAR'S   VISITORS 

rings  have  scratched  theirs  on  the  window-panes.  Here 
you  will  see  the  signature  of  General  Tom  Thumb,  who 
visited  the  Birthplace  with  his  wife.  His  name  was 
Stratton.  Its  position,  not  very  much  higher  than  the 
skirting-board,  shows  his  height.  Helen  Faucit's  name 
appears  on  the  beam  overhead.  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
name,  and  Thomas  Carlyle's  will  be  seen  on  the  window." 

We  take  these  and  all  other  signatures  on  trust,  for 
they  are  nearly  every  one  terrible  scrawls,  and  are  all 
so  extremely  crowded  together,  and  the  plaster  is  so 
dirty,  and  the  glass  so  nearly  opaque  that  with  this  and 
with  that  they  are  hardly  ever  legible. 

In  a  back  room  hangs  an  oil  portrait  of  Shakespeare  : 
the  so-called  "  Stratford  "  portrait,  bought  in  1860  by 
William  Hunt,  the  town  clerk,  together  with  the  old 
house  in  which  it  then  hung.  It  has  been  cleaned  and 
restored  and  elaborately  framed,  and  it  will  be  observed 
that  it  is  further  guarded  by  being  enclosed  in  a  steel 
safe  :  extraordinary  precautions  in  behalf  of  a  work 
which  is  almost  certainly  spurious. 

And  so  we  descend  and  sign  the  visitors'-book.  A 
very  bulky  volume  is  filled  in  less  than  a  year,  and  still 
the  number  grows.  There  were  27,038  visitors  in  1896, 
and  49,117  in  1910.  The  extremely  fine  and  lengthy 
summer  of  1911  did  not,  as  might  have  been  supposed, 
bring  a  record  return.  On  the  contrary,  the  numbers  fell 
in  that  year  to  40,300. 

Returning  to  the  kitchen,  where  in  the  yawning 
chimney-place  a  bacon  cupboard  will  be  noticed,  we 
leave  by  the  garden  at  the  back.  But  meanwhile  the 
Birthplace  Museum  has  been  left  undescribed.  Visitors 
who  have  sprung  a  sixpence  for  that  are  taken  through 
from  the  front  room,  the  living-room.  Plere  are  kept 
many  and  various  articles  more  or  less  associated  with 
Shakespeare,  and  some  that  have  no  connection  with 

57 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

him  at  all.  The  most  interesting  are  the  documents 
relating  to  this  house ;  the  original  letter  written  by 
Richard  Quiney  to  Shakespeare  in  1598 ;  and  a  deed 
with  the  signature  of  Shakespeare's  brother  Gilbert, 
who  was  a  draper  or  haberdasher  in  London,  dated  1609. 
A  desk  from  the  Grammar  School,  the  chair  from  the 
"  Falcon  "  at  Bidford,  in  which  Shakespeare  is  supposed 
to  have  sat,  portraits,  prints  ;  a  perfect  copy  of  the  1623 
First  Folio  edition  of  the  plays,  purchased  at  the  Ash- 
burnham  Sale  in  1898,  and  other  rare  editions,  make  up 
the  collection,  together  with  a  sword  said  to  have  been 
Shakespeare's,  and  an  interesting 
gold  signet-ring,  Avith  the  initials 
"  W.  S."  entwined  with  a  true-lover's 
knot,  found  in  a  field  outside  the 
town,  near  the  church,  early  in  the 
nineteenth  century.  It  is  said  to 
have  been  Shakespeare's  ring,  but 
scarcely  sufficient  stress  seems  to  be 

SHAKESPEARE'S  i      •   i  .1  J  1   a.       1  .1  j."     -j. 

SIGNET-RING.  ^^^^l  upou  thc  uudoubtcd  authenticity 

of  it.  Shakespeare's  will,  drafted  in 
January  1616,  originally  bore  the  concluding  words  : 
"  In  witness  whereof  I  have  hereunto  put  my  scale," 
but  this  was  afterwards  altered  to  "  hand,"  the  as- 
sumption being  that  it  was  the  loss  of  this  signet  ring 
which  necessitated  the  alteration. 

Haydon,  the  painter,  wrote  to  Keats  in  1818,  about 
the  discovery,  "  My  dear  Keats,  I  shall  go  mad  !  In 
a  field  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  that  belonged  to  Shake- 
speare, they  have  found  a  gold  ring  and  seal  with  the 
initials  'W.S.,'  and  a  true-lover's  knot  between.  If 
this  is  not  Shakespeare's  whose  is  it  ?  I  saw  an  im- 
pression to-day,  and  am  to  have  one  as  soon  as  possible  : 
as  sure  as  you  live  and  breathe,  and  that  he  was  the 
first  of   beings,  the  seal  belonged  to  him,  O,  Lord  !  " 

58 


THE    SHAKESPEAREAN   GARDEN 

Among-  the  exhibits  in  the  Museum  are  the  town 
weights  and  measures,  the  sword  of  state,  and  altogether 
some  fine  miscellaneous  feeding  for  the  curio-fancier. 

The  cellars  under  the  building  are  not  shown,  nor  is 
the  western  part  of  it,  where  the  town  archives  are 
stored. 

The  garden  at  the  back  is  laid  out  in  beds  planted 
with  the  flowers  mentioned  by  Shakespeare  in  his 
works,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  well-kept  gravelled 
path  is  the  base  of  the  ancient  town  cross  which  formerly 
stood  at  the  intersection  of  Bridge  Street  and  High 
Street.  It  is  a  pleasant  place,  and  its  present  condition 
is  the  result  of  care,  the  outcome  of  much  pious  thought. 
But  we  may  declare  with  all  the  emphatic  language  at 
our  command,  that  when  William  Shakespeare  and  his 
brothers  Gilbert,  Richard  and  Edmund,  and  his  sister 
Joan  played  out  here  in  the  back  yard,  it  was  very  little 
of  a  garden,  and  not  at  all  tidy  unless  they  were  angel- 
children,  which  we  have  no  occasion  to  suppose.  It 
seems  to  have  been  originally  an  orchard,  but  no  doubt 
Mr.  John  Shakespeare  put  it  to  some  use  in  connection 
with  the  several  trades  he  followed. 

The  piety  is  undoubted,  but  it  is  a  little  overdone,  and 
everything  is  in  sample.  They  are  not  very  good 
specimens  of  marigolds  we  see  here,  but  still  they  are 
obviously  marigolds,  and  we  do  not — no  really  we  don't 
— need  the  label  that  identifies  them  and  the  other 
flowers.  We  can  quite  easily  recognise  the  winking 
Mary-bud,  that  beautiful  flower  whose  golden  eyes  are 
among  the  loveliest  blossoms  in  an  old-fashioned  garden ; 
we  know  the  rose,  the  jasmine,  the  gillyflower,  the  sun- 
flower, the  stock,  the  ladysmock,  and  the  whole  delightful 
posy,  and  wonder  who  and  what  those  folk  may  be 
who  cannot  recognise  them,  and  require  these  cast-iron 
labels  for  their. information. 

59 


CHAPTER   VII 

Church  Street — The  "  Castle  "  inn — The   Guild  Chapel^    Guild  Hall, 
and  Grammar  School — New  Place. 

Church  Street  is  the  most  likeable  of  all  the  streets  of 
Stratford.  There  you  do  not,  in  point  of  fact,  actually 
see  the  church,  which  is  out  away  beyond  the  end  of  it. 
The  features  of  this  quiet  and  yet  not  dull  thoroughfare 
are  the  few  and  scattered  shops  in  among  private  houses, 
and  a  quaint  old  inn  of  unusual  design,  the  "  Windmill." 
It  is  illustrated  here,  and  so  the  effective  frontage,  with 
its  row  of  singularly  bold  dormer  windows  need  not 
be  more  particularly  described.  The  interior  is  almost 
equally  interesting,  and  has  a  deep  ingle-nook  with  one 
of  those  bacon-cupboards  that  are  so  numerously  found 
in  the  town  and  district.  It  is  a  house  that  attracts 
and  holds  the  observant  man's  attention,  and  it  has  been 
so  greatly  admired  by  an  American  visitor  that  a  com- 
plete set  of  architectural  drawings  was  made  for  him 
and  an  exact  replica  built  in  Chicago  a  few  years  ago. 

Opposite  the  "  Windmill "  inn  is  a  fine  Georgian  man- 
sion called  "Mason  Croft,"  obviously  once  occupied  by  a 
person  of  importance,  many  years  since.  But  the  chief 
feature  of  Church  Street  is  the  long  range  of  half-tim- 
bered buildings  with  its  striking  row  of  massive  chimney- 
stacks,  ending  with  the  imposing  stone  tower  of  the  Guild 
Chapel.  It  is  entirely  right  that  these  buildings  should 
bulk  so  largely  to  the  eye,  for  in  them  is  centred  the 
greater  part  of  Stratford's  history.  They  are  the  time- 
worn  and  venerable  buildings  of  that  ancient  Guild  of 

60 


THE   GUILD 

Holy  Cross  whose  beginnings  are  in  the  dim  past  and  have 
never  been  definitely  fixed.  The  earliest  facts  relating 
to  the  Guild  take  the  story  of  it  back  to  1269,  when  its 
first  Chapel  was  begun,  and  when  the  semi-religious 
character  of  the  fraternity  was  its  more  important  half. 
The  Guild  may  be  likened  to  a  mutual  benefit  society 


WINDMILL        INN. 


of  modern  times,  with  the  addition  of  the  religious 
element.  It  was  founded  in  superstition,  but  lived 
that  down  and  became  not  only  an  institution  of  the 
greatest  service,  but  also  the  originator  of  the  Grammar 
School,  and  an  informal  town  council  and  local  authority, 
which,  strangely  enough,  in  its  later  and  almost  wholly 
secularised  character,  withstood  the  exactions  of  the 
Bishops  of  Worcester,  the  old-time  lords  of  the  manor 
and  their  stewards,  and  finally,  after  being  dissolved  in 

61 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

1547,  was  re-constituted   as   the   town  council   of   the 
newly  incorporated  borough  in  1553. 

The  original  form  of  the  Guild  was  that  of  a  subscrip- 
tion society  for  men  and  Avomen.     Its  benefits,  unlike 
those  of  the  Foresters  and  the  Oddfellows  of  to-day, 
were  chiefly  spiritual.     It  employed  priests  to  look  after 
the  religious  needs  of  its  members  during  life  and  to 
pray   for   the   health   of    their   souls   after    death.     It 
secured  these  then  greatly  desired  benefits  at  a  reduced 
rate,  just  as  the  modern  benefit  society  employs  the 
club  doctor.     It  also  in  many  ways  promoted  kindliness 
and  good-fellowship,  helped  the  poor,  and  often  found 
husbands  for  unappropriated  spinsters  by  the  simple 
process  of  endowing  them.     This  was  all  to  the  good. 
Somewhat  later  the  Guild  espoused  the  cause  of  education, 
and  certainly  had  a  grammar  school  at  the  close  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  payments  to  the  schoolmaster  being 
the  subject  of  allusion  in  the  Guild's  archives  in  1402. 
Once   a  year  the   entire  membership  went  in  stately 
procession  to  church,  and  returning  to  the  Guild  Hall 
indulged  in  one  of  those  gargantuan  feasts  whose  records 
are    the  amazement  of    modern   readers.     Of    the  103 
pullets,  and  of  the  geese  and  the  beef  recorded  to  have 
been  consumed  at  one  of  these  feasts  in  the  beginning 
of  the  fifteenth  century  we  say  nothing,  but  on  the  same 
occasion  they  drank   "  34   gallons  of  good  beer,"  and 
"  39  gallons  of  small  ale,"  perhaps  on  the  well-known  old 
principle  that  "  good  eating  deserveth  good  drinking." 
The  73  gallons  of  ale  not  being  enough  they  sent  out 
and  had  some  more  in  by  the  cistern,  a  method  which 
seems  determined  and  heroic.     The  account  thus  in- 
cludes "  1  cestern  of  penyale,"  for  which  they  paid  the 
equivalent  of  eight  shillings,  and  "  2  cesterns  of  good 
beer  bought  from  Agnes  Iremonger  for  3^." ;  that  is  to 
say,  about    twenty-four   shillings'    worth.     They  seem 

62 


THE   GUILD 

to  have  had  enough,  "  'Tis  merry  in  hall  when  beards 
wag  all,"  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  company 
who  on  this  occasion  drank  pottle-deep  were  merry 
enough. 

The  Guild  also  added  morality  plays  to  its  enter- 
tainments; but  all  these  lively  proceedings  formed  but 
one  side  to  its  activities.  It  fulfilled  many  of  the  func- 
tions of  local  government,  and  strictly  too,  and  its 
aldermen  and  proctors  were  officials  not  likely  to  be 
disregarded.  The  authority  of  the  Guild  was  supported 
by  its  wealth,  contributed  by  the  benefactions  of  the 
members,  which  rendered  it  in  course  of  time,  after  the 
lord  of  the  manor,  the  largest  landowner  in  and  about 
the  town. 

It  was  not  so  great  a  change  when  the  old  Guild  was  re- 
constructed and  became  the  town  council.  By  that  time 
it  had  ceased  its  early  care  for  the  future  of  its  members' 
souls,  and  had  become  in  some  of  its  developments  much 
more  like  a  Chamber  of  Commerce.  But  it  had  not  for- 
gotten to  make  merry  and  its  love-feasts  continued, 
and  its  morality  plays  with  them,  although  they  had 
become  a  little  more  after  the  secular  model. 

These  traditions  were  continued  into  the  town  council, 
as  they  could  scarcely  fail  to  be,  for  the  members  of  that 
body  had  been  also  officials  of  the  Guild.  John  Shake- 
speare, High  Bailiff  in  1569,  was  responsible  for  inviting 
a  company  of  actors  to  perform  in  the  Guild  Hall,  and 
others  did  the  like. 

The  Guild  Chapel,  founded  in  1296  and  largely  rebuilt 
by  the  generosity  of  Sir  Hugh  Clopton  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  is  the  chief  of  the  Guild's  old  buildings.  It  is 
not  now  of  much  practical  use,  but  of  venerable  aspect 
and  considerable  beauty.  The  tower,  porch  and  nave 
are  Clopton's  work,  the  beautiful  porch  still  displaying 
his  shield  of  arms  and  that  of  the  City  of  London,  although 

63 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

greatly  weathered  and  defaced.  He  did  not  touch  the 
chancel,  which  had  already  been  restored ;  and  the 
exterior  still  shows  by  force  of  contrast  the  greatness 
of  Clopton's  gift ;  his  nave  entirely  overshadowing  in 
its  comparative  bulk  the  humble  proportions  of  the 
chancel.  Frankness  is  at  least  as  desirable  a  quality 
in  a  book  as  in  the  affairs  of  life,  and  so  it  may  at  once 
be  admitted  that  the  interior  of  the  Guild  Chapel  is 
extremely  disappointing.  It  is  coldly  whitewashed, 
and  the  ancient  frescoes  discovered  a  hundred  years 
ago  have  faded  away.  They  included  a  fine,  if  alarming 
to  some  minds,  representation  of  the  doom,  a  fifteenth- 
century  notion  of  the  Judgment  Day.  Alarming  to 
some  minds  because  of  the  very  high  percentage  of  the 
damned  disclosed  at  this  awful  balancing  of  accounts. 
Illustrations  of  this,  among  the  other  frescoes,  survive, 
and  have  a  fearful  interest.  It  is  pleasing  to  see  the 
towering  mansions  of  the  Blest  on  the  left  hand,  with 
St.  Peter  waiting  at  the  open  door  welcoming  that,  ah  ! 
so  small  band ;  but  on  the  right,  where  green,  pink  and 
blue  pig-faced  devils  with  asses'  ears  are  tormenting 
their  prey,  whanging  them  with  bludgeons  and  raking 
them  in  with  three-pronged  prokers,  casting  them  into 
Hell's  Mouth,  and  finally  roasting  them  in  a  furnace, 
the  prospect  is  vile.  Shakespeare  must  have  been 
perfectly  familiar  with  these  horrific  things,  and  Fal- 
staff's  likening  of  a  flea  on  Bardolph's  fiery  nose  to  a 
"  black  soul  burning  in  hell  fire,"  looks  very  like  a  vivid 
recollection  of  them.  Some  day,  perhaps,  when  the 
Shakespearean  cult  at  Stratford  is  more  advanced  (it 
is  only  in  its  youth  yet)  these  frescoes  will  be  renewed, 
from  the  careful  records  of  them  that  have  been  kept. 

The  lengthy  line  of  the  Guild  Hall  and  the  almshouses 
of  the  Guild  is  one  of  the  most  effective  things  in  the 
town.     It  dates  from  1417.     For  many  years,  until  1894, 

G4 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

the  stout  timbering  was  hidden  away  beneath  plaster, 
and  few  suspected  the  simple  beauty  of  the  honest  old 
oak  framing  hidden  beneath.  The  plaster  was  spread 
over  it  to  preserve  the  oak  from  the  weather.  Let  us 
italicise  that  choice  specimen  of  stupidity,  not  because 
it  is  unique  or  even  rare,  for  it  is  found  all  over  the 
country,  and  elsewhere  in  this  very  town  of  Stratford, 
and  here  and  everywhere  else  it  is  at  last  being  found 
out ;  but  because  the  italics  are  needed  somewhere, 
to  drive  home  the  peculiar  dunderheadedness  of  it. 
I  think  perhaps,  after  all,  plaster  was  coated  over  old 
timbering,  not  so  much  for  the  preservation  of  it  as 
because  generations  had  been  born  who  could  not  endure 
the  uneven  lines  of  the  old  work.  The  woodwork  of 
those  later  heirs  of  time  was  true  to  a  hair's  breadth 
and  planed  down  to  an  orderly  smoothness  :  not  riven 
anyhow  from  the  logs.  A  conflict  of  ideals  had  arisen, 
and  the  new  era  was  ashamed  of  the  handiwork  of  the 
old. 

There  have  been  times  when  architects  were  also 
ashamed  of  their  chimneys,  and  disguised  them  and  hid 
them  away,  as  though  a  chimney  were  an  unnatural 
thing  for  a  house  and  to  be  abated  and  apologised  for. 
The  only  time  to  apologise  for  a  chimney  is  when  it 
smokes  inside  the  house  instead  of  out ;  and  it  is  pleasant 
to  see  that  whoever  designed  and  built  the  long  and  lofty 
range  of  chimneys  that  rises,  almost  like  a  series  of 
towers,  from  this  roof  ridge,  had  not  the  least  idea  of 
excusing  them. 

The  hall  of  the  Guild  occupies  almost  half  the  length 
of  the  lower  floor.  The  remainder  forms  the  alms- 
houses formerly  occupied  by  the  poorer  brethren  of 
the  Guild  and  still  housing  the  pensioners  enjoying  their 
share  of  the  Clopton  benefactions.  They  wear  on  the 
right  arm  a  silver  badge  displaying  the  Clopton  cross, 

66 


THE   GRAMMAR   SCHOOL 

a  cross  heraldically  described  as  a  "  cross  pattee  fitchee 
at  foot." 

The  interior  of  the  Guild  Hall  displays  firstly  that 
long  ground-floor  hall  in  which  the  Guild  members  met 
and  feasted  or  transacted  business,  and  where  their 
morality  plays  and  the  entertainments  given  by  their 
successors,  the  earlier  town  councils,  were  acted.  Here 
such  travelling  companies  as  those  who  called  them- 
selves "  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  servants,"  and  other 
troupes  of  actors,  occasionally  performed.  Shakespeare 
as  a  boy  must  have  seen  them,  and  thus  probably  had 
his  attention  first  directed  to  the  stage  as  a  career. 

From  this  long  hall  the  room  variously  styled  the 
"  Armoury,"  or  the  small  Council  Chamber  or  "  'Greeing 
Room,"  is  entered.  This  Agreeing  Room,  perhaps  for 
the  inner  councils  of  the  Guild,  was  re-panelled  about 
1619,  when  the  door  leading  from  the  hall  was  built; 
and  as  a  sign  of  rejoicing,  the  royal  arms  were  painted 
over  the  fireplace  at  the  time  of  the  Restoration  of 
Charles  the  Second,  in  1660.  Here  also  at  one  time 
the  arms  of  the  town  guard  were  kej)t. 

The  present  School  Library,  overhead,  occupies  the 
room  under  the  roof,  formerly  the  large  Council  Chamber 
of  the  Guild.  The  heraldic  white  and  red  roses  painted 
on  the  west  wall,  the  red  countercharged  with  a  white 
centre  and  the  white  with  red,  were  placed  there  in  1485, 
marking  the  satisfaction  of  the  townsfolk  at  the 
marriage  of  Henry  the  Seventh  with  Elizabeth  of  York^ 
and  the  union  of  the  rival  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster. 

Out  of  this  room  opens  the  Latin  Schoolroom  of  the 
Grammar  School.  The  first  jDortion  of  it  was  once 
separate,  and  known  as  the  Mathematical  Room.  Here 
we  are  on  the  scene  of  Shakespeare's  schooldays,  the 
schoolroom  where  he  learnt  that  "  small  Latin  and  less 
Greek,"  with  which  Ben  Jonson  credited  him;  a  room 
p  2  67 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

still  used  in  the  education  of  Stratford  boys.  He 
pictured  the  schoolboy  of  his  own  and  every  other  time 
in  the  lines — 

"^Tlie  winning  schoolboy,  with  his  satchel 
And  shining-  morning-  face,  creeping  like  a  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school." 

V"  How  unwillingly  we  do  not  fully  comprehend  until 
we  look  more  closely  into  the  schooling  of  those  days. 
It  was  a  twelve-hour  day,  begun  extremely  early  in 
the  morning,  and  continued  through  the  weary  hours 
with  some  exercise  of  the  rod. 

We  know  exactly  who  were  the  masters  of  the  Gram- 
mar School  in  the  years  1571  to  1580,  when  Shakespeare 
received  his  education  here,  in  common  wdth  the  other 
children  of  the  town.  They  were  Walter  Roche,  who 
was  a  Fellow^  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford,  and 
afterwards  rector  of  Clifford  Chambers;  succeeded  in 
1572  by  Thomas  Hunt,  afterwards  curate-in-charge 
at  Luddington ;  and  in  1577  by  Thomas  Jenkins,  of  St. 
John's  College,  Oxford.  These  may  have  been  pedants, 
but  they  were  scholars,  and  qualified  to  impart  an 
excellent  education.  They  were  in  fact  men  distinctly 
above  the  average  of  the  schoolmasters  of  that  age, 
and  live  for  all  time  in  the  characters  of  Holofernes  in 
Love's  Labour's  Lost  and  Sir  Hugh  Evans  in  the  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor;  the  title  "Sir,"  being  one,  not  of 
knighthood,  but  of  courtesy,  given  to  a  clergyman. 
Shakespeare's  allusions  to  schools,  masters  and  scholars, 
and  his  Latin  conversations  in  the  plays,  modelled  on 
the  school  methods  then  in  vogue,  are  much  more  numer- 
ous and  illuminative  than  generally  supposed.  We 
find,  indeed,  an  esj^ecially  intimate  touch  with  Shake- 
speare's schooldays  in  the  description  of  Malvolio  in 
Twelfth  Night  as  "  like  a  pedant  that  keeps  school  i'  the 

68 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

church  " ;  a  remark  whose  significance  is  not  evident 
until  we  read  that  during  Shakespeare's  own  schooldays 
the  buildings  were  extensively  repaired  and  that  for 
a  time  the  master  and  pupils  were  housed  in  the  Guild 
Chapel. 

The  Latin  Schoolroom  has  an  outside  staircase  built 
in  recent  years  to  replace  the  original,  abolished  in  1841. 
The  half-timbered  house  standing  in  the  courtyard  was 
formerly  the  schoolmaster's  residence;  it  is  now,  with 
the  need  for  accommodating  the  natural  increase  of 
scholars,  used  for  additional  class-rooms. 

Shakespeare,  retiring  early  from  his  interests  in 
London  and  the  playhouses,  and  coming  home  to  Strat- 
ford a  wealthy  man,  hoping  to  live  many  years  in  the 
enjoyment  of  his  fortune,  settled  in  the  old  mansion  he 
had  bought,  adjoining  the  scene  of  his  own  schooldays. 
He  must  have  looked  with  a  kindly  eye  and  with  much 
satisfaction  from  the  windows  of  New  Place,  upon  the 
schoolboys  coming  and  going  along  the  street,  as  he 
himself  had  done.  Not  every  one  can  be  so  fortunate. 
Perhaps  the  reigning  schoolmaster  of  the  time  even 
held  up  the  shining  example  of  Mr.  William  Shake- 
speare, "  who  was  a  schoolboy  here,  like  you,  my  boys," 
to  his  classes,  and  carefully  omitting  the  factors  of 
chance  and  opportunity,  promised  them  as  great  success 
if  they  did  but  mind  their  books.  Perhaps,  on  the  other 
hand — for  these  were  already  puritan  times — their 
distinguished  neighbour  was  an  awful  example  :  author 
of  those  shocking  exhibitions  called  stage-plays,  at 
this  time  forbidden  in  the  town,  under  penalties,  and 
an  actor,  "  such  as  those  rogues  whom  we  but  the  other 
day  sent  packing  from  our  streets.  Beware,  my  lads, 
lest  you  become  wealthy  after  the  fashion  of  Mr.  Shake- 
speare. 'What  profitethit  a  man,  if  he  should  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  '  " 

70 


\  k 


UNSAVOURY   OLD    STRATFORD 

Shakespeare,  although  he  had  become  a  personage  of 
great  consideration,  with  a  fine  residence,  many  times 
removed  from  his  father's  humble  house  in  Henley 
Street,  had  not  changed  into  a  more  salubrious  neigh- 
bourhood. The  Stratford  of  his  day  and  for  long  after 
was  a  dirty  and  insanitary  place,  according  to  our 
notions,  but  the  townsfolk  did  not  seem  to  be  troubled 
by  these  conditions,  and  it  never  occurred  to  them  that 
the  plagues  and  fevers  that  carried  off  many  of  their 
fellows  to  Heaven — or  whatever  their  destination — 
untimely  were  caused  by  the  dirt  and  the  vile  odours 
of  the  place.  Stratford  of  course,  was  not  singular  in 
this,  and  had  its  counterpart  in  most  other  towns  and 
villages  of  that  age.  The  town  council,  however,  drew 
the  line  at  the  burgesses  keeping  pigs  in  part  of  the 
houses,  or  allowing  them  to  wander  in  the  streets ; 
and  enacted  a  fine  of  fourpence  for  every  strayed  porker. 
But  the  townsfolk  regarded  the  authority's  dislike  of 
pigs  as  a  curious  eccentricity,  and  the  swine  had  their 
styes  and  roamed  the  streets  exactly  as  before.  The 
biggest  of  the  six  municipal  muckhills  that  raised  their 
majestic  crests  in  the  streets  all  the  year  round  was 
situated  in  Chapel  Lane,  opposite  Shakespeare's  door, 
but  there  is  no  record  of  his  having  objected  to  it.  It 
was  this,  however,  and  the  deplorable  condition  of 
Chapel  Lane  in  general,  then  notoriously  the  dirtiest 
thoroughfare  in  the  town,  which  probably  caused  the 
poet's  death ;  for  the  opinion  now  generally  held  is  that 
he  died  of  typhoid  fever. 

Down  Chapel  Lane  then  ran  an  open  gutter  :  a  wide 
and  dirty  ditch  some  four  or  five  feet  across,  choked  with 
mud.  All  the  filth  of  this  part  of  the  town  ran  into  it 
and  discharged  into  the  river. 

There  is  no  pictorial  record  of  New  Place,  as  it  was 
when  Shakespeare  resided  in  it.     He  was  unfortunate 

71 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

in  living  long  before  the  age  of  picture-postcards,  and 
never  knew  the  joy  of  seeing  illustrations  of  his  house, 
"  New  Place ;  residence  of  Mr.  William  Shakespeare  " 
(with  the  tell-tale  legend  "Piintodm  Germany,"  in  ruby  type 
on  the  back),  for  sale  in  all  the  shop  windows.  Poor 
devil  ! 

New  Place  passed  by  Shakespeare's  will  to  his  daughter 
Susanna  and  her  husband  Dr.  Hall.  They  removed 
from  their  house  "  Hall's  Croft,"  Old  Stratford,  shortly 
afterwards,  Shakespeare's  widow  probably  living  with 
them  until  her  death  in  1623.  Dr.  Hall  died  in  1635. 
In  1643,  Mrs.  Hall  here  entertained  Queen  Henrietta 
Maria  for  three  weeks,  at  the  beginning  of  the  royalist 
troubles,  when  the  Queen  came  to  the  town  with  5000 
men.  In  1649  she  died,  two  years  after  her  son-in-law, 
Thomas  Nash,  whose  house  is  next  door.  Somewhere 
about  this  time  all  the  Shakespeare  books  and  manu- 
scripts would  seem  to  have  disappeared.  The  puritan 
Dr.  Hall,  disapproved  of  stage-plays,  and  his  wife, 
Shakespeare's  daughter  Susanna,  could  neither  write 
nor  read ;  and  thus  the  complete  destruction  of  the 
dramatist's  records  is  easily  accounted  for. 

Nash's  widow,  Shakespeare's  granddaughter,  married 
again,  a  John  Barnard  who  was  afterwards  knighted. 
Lady  Barnard  died  childless  at  her  husband's  place 
at  Abington,  Northamptonshire,  and  was  buried  there, 
leaving  New  Place  to  her  husband,  who  died  four  years 
later,  in  1674.  By  a  strange  chance,  the  house  that 
had  been  sold  out  of  the  Clopton  family  now  came 
back  to  it  by  marriage.  Sir  Edward  Walker  who  bought 
the  property  in  1675,  leaving  Barbara,  an  only  child? 
who  married  Sir  John  Clopton.  His  son.  Sir  Hugh, 
came  into  possession  of  an  entirely  new-fronted  house, 
for  his  father,  careless  of  its  associations,  in  1703  had  made 
great   alterations   here.     Illustrations   of   this   frontage 

72 


A   BLACK-TEMPERED   PARSON 

which  survived  until  1759,  show  that  it  was  not  at  all 
Shakespearean ;  being  instead  most  distinctly  and  fla- 
grantly Queen  Annean,  in  the  semi-classic  taste  of  that 
day,  with  a  pediment  and  other  architectural  details 
which  we  are  convinced  Shakespeare's  New  Place  never 
included. 

The  ill-tempered  Rev.  Francis  Gastrell  who  bought 
New  Place  in  1753  completed  the  obliteration  of  the 
illustrious  owner's  residence.  There  cannot,  happily, 
be  many  people  so  black-tempered  as  this  wealthy 
absentee  vicar  of  Frodsham,  in  Cheshire,  who,  resident 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  year  in  Lichfield,  yet  found 
Stratford  desirable  at  some  time  in  the  twelve  months. 
His  acrid  humours  were  early  stirred.  He  had  no 
sooner  moved  in  than  he  found  numbers  of  people 
coming  every  day  to  see  Shakespeare's  mulberry-tree 
in  the  garden,  so  he  promptly  had  it  cut  down,  to  save 
himself  annoyance.  Then  he  objected  to  the  house 
being  assessed  for  taxes  all  the  year  round,  although 
he  occupied  it  only  a  month  or  two  in  the  twelve ;  and 
when  the  authorities  refused  to  accept  his  view,  he  had 
the  place  entirely  demolished.  Thus  perished  New 
Place.  The  site  of  it,  after  passing  through  several 
hands,  was  finally  purchased,  together  with  the  adjoining 
Thomas  Nash's  house,  by  public  subscription  in  1861 ; 
and  both  are  now  the  property  of  the  Shakespeare 
Birthplace  Trust. 

The  site  of  New  Place  is  open  to  the  view  of  all  who 
pass  along  Church  Street  and  Chapel  Lane,  a  dwarf  wall 
with  ornamental  railing  alone  dividing  it  and  its  gardens 
from  the  pavement.  Sixpence,  which  is  the  key  that 
unlocks  many  doors  in  Shakespeare  land,  admits  to 
the  foundations,  all  that  remain  of  the  house,  and  also 
to  the  "  New  Place  Museum,"  in  the  house  of  Thomas 
Nash.     Strange  to  say,  the  Trustees  do  not  charge  for 

73 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

admission  to  the  gardens.  Is  this  an  oversight,  or  a 
kindly  wish  to  leave  the  stranger  an  odd  sixpence  to 
get  home  with  ?  Nash's  house,  odiously  re-fronted 
about  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  showed 
a  stuccoed  front  with  pillared  portico  to  the  street  until 
recently.  This  year  (1912)  the  alterations  have  been 
completed  by  Avhich  the  frontage  is  restored  by  the 
evidence  of  old  prints  to  its  appearance  in  Nash's  time. 
The  interior  remains  as  of  old.  Among  the  relics  in  the 
Museum  are  chairs,  tables,  a  writing-desk,  and  other 
articles  rather  doubtfully  said  to  have  belonged  to  Shake- 
speare; a  trinket-box  supposed  to  have  been  Anne 
Hathaway's,  and  an  old  shuffle-board  from  the  "  Falcon  " 
inn  opposite,  on  which  Shakespeare  is  said  to  have  played 
a  game  with  friends  at  nights,  when  he  felt  bored  at 
home.  Unfortunately  for  tradition  and  the  authenticity 
of  this  "Shakespearean  relic,"  the  "Falcon"  was  a 
private  house  in  Shakespeare's  lifetime,  and  for  long 
after.  It  is  known  to  have  become  an  inn  only  at  some 
time  between  1645  and  1668.  The  sign  was  chosen 
probably  in  allusion  to  the  Shakespeare  crest.  Repro- 
ductions of  portraits  of  Shakespeare's  friends  complete 
the  collections  in  Nash's  House. 


74 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Tlie  Church  of  the  Holy  'I'riuity,  Stratford-on-Avon. 

The  parish  church  of  Stratford-on-Avon  is  a  building 
larger,  more  lofty,  and  far  more  stately  than  most  towns 
of  this  size  can  boast.  There  is  reason  for  this  excep- 
tional importance,  first  in  the  patronage  of  the  Bishops 
of  Worcester,  on  whose  manor  it  was  situated,  but  chiefly 
in  the  benefactions  of  John  of  Stratford,  one  of  three 
remarkable  persons  born  here  in  the  thirteenth  or 
fourteenth  centuries.  John,  Robert,  and  Ralph,  who 
took  their  distinguishing  name  from  the  town  of  their 
birth,  were  all  of  one  family ;  the  first  two  were  brothers, 
the  third  was  their  nephew.  John,  born  in  the  closing 
years  of  the  thirteenth  century,  became  successively 
Bishop  of  Winchester  and  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
and  was,  like  most  of  the  great  prelates  of  the  age,  a 
statesman  as  well,  filling  the  State  offices  of  ambassador 
to  foreign  powers  and  Lord  Chancellor  of  the  realm. 
He  died  in  1348.  His  brother  Robert  early  became 
rector  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  1319.  He  it  was  who 
first  caused  the  town  to  be  paved ;  not,  of  course,  with 
pavements  that  would  meet  the  approval  of  a  modern 
town  council  or  the  inhabitants,  but  probably  with 
something  in  the  nature  of  cobbles  roughly  laid  down  in 
the  deep  mud  in  which,  up  to  that  time,  the  rude  carts 
of  the  age  had  foundered.  It  was  this  mud  that  set  a 
deep  gulf  between  neighbours,  and  had  led  indirectly 
to  the  establishment  in  1296  of  the  original  Guild 
Chapel,  a  small  building  which  stood  on  the  site  of  the 

75 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

existing  larger  structure.  It  was  founded  by  Robert, 
the  father  of  John  and  Robert,  largely  for  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  those  old  or  infirm  persons  who  were  not  able 
to  attend  service  at  the  parish  church,  by  reason  of  the 
distance  !  Not,  we  may  be  sure,  the  distance  of  actual 
measurement,  for  the  church  is  at  the  end  of  the  not 
very  long  street,  and  a  leisurely  walk  brings  you  to  it  in 
two  minutes ;  but  a  distance  of  miles  reckoned  in  the 
hindrances  and  disabilities  provided  by  the  roads  of 
that  age.  Nothing  in  the  story  of  Stratford  could  more 
eloquently  describe  to  us  the  condition  of  its  streets  and 
the  then  remoteness  of  the  Old  Town  district. 

But  to  return  to  Robert  of  Stratford,  who  eventually 
became  Bishop  of  Chichester  and  died  in  1362.  He  it 
was  who  supervised  his  brother  John's  gifts  to  the 
church,  which  was  then  an  incomplete  building,  lan- 
guishing for  want  of  means  to  complete  it.  Apparently 
it  had  long  before  been  decided  to  replace  the  small 
original  Norman  church  with  a  larger  and  much  more 
ambitious  building,  in  the  Early  English  style,  judging 
from  traces  of  both  those  architectural  periods  discern- 
able  in  the  tower ;  but  the  Bishops  of  Worcester  would 
not  loosen  their  purse-strings  sufficiently,  and  awaited 
the  coming  of  that  benefactor  who,  they  were  morally 
certain,  was  sure  to  appear  sooner  or  later  and  compound 
with  Heaven  for  his  evil  courses  on  earth  by  completing 
it.  They  did  not,  however,  reckon  on  any  of  their  own 
cloth  doing  so,  for  sheer  joy  of  the  M^ork. 

John  of  Stratford's  works  included  the  widening  of  the 
north  aisle  and  the  rebuilding  of  the  south ;  the  re- 
modelling of  the  central  tower  and  the  addition  of  a 
timber  spire,  which  remained  until  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, when  it  was  replaced  (1764)  by  the  present  loftier 
stone  spire,  which  rises  eighty-three  feet  above  the  roof 
of  the  tower.     In  1332  he  founded  the  chantry  chapel  of 

76 


INTERCESSION   UNLIMITED 

St.  Thomas  the  Martyr  in  the  church.  There  five  priests 
were  appointed  to  sing  masses  "  for  ever,"  for  the  good 
of  the  souls  of  founder  and  friends.  John  of  Stratford 
was  a  great  and  wise  man,  but  he  did  not  know  that 
"  where  the  tree  falls,  there  shall  it  lie  " ;  nor  could  he 
foresee  that  his  "  for  ever  "  would  be  commuted  by  the 
Reformation  into  a  period  of  two  hundred  years. 

He  endowed  his  chantry  chapel  with  liberality; 
almost  extravagance,  and  even  purchased  the  advowson 
of  the  church  from  the  Bishop.  This  extremely  liberal 
endowment  was  perhaps  necessary,  for  he  had  considered 
the  eternal  welfare  of  a  good  many  people  besides  him- 
self and  his  relations,  and  included  even  the  sovereigns 
of  England,  present  and  to  be,  and  all  future  Bishops 
of  Worcester.  The  priests,  therefore,  had  their  hands 
full,  and  shouldered  some  heavy  responsibilities ;  for — 
not  to  go  into  individual  cases,  or  specify  some 
of  the  shocking  examples — it  does  not  need  much 
imagination  to  perceive  that  a  tremendous  deal  of 
intercession  would  be  necessary  for  so  unlimited  a  com- 
pany as  this.  Perhaps,  in  the  circumstances,  he  could 
not  possibly  endow  his  chantry  too  richly. 

I  do  not  know  how  his  priests  fared  for  lodgings. 
He  seems  to  have  omitted  that  important  detail.  But 
his  nephew  Ralph  supplied  the  omission,  and,  in  1351, 
three  years  after  his  uncle's  death,  built  a  house  for  them 
adjoining  the  churchyard.  It  was  styled  then  and  for 
centuries  afterwards  "  the  College."  Thus  the  church 
of  Stratford-on-Avon  became  more  richly  endowed  than 
the  usual  parish  church,  and  was  known  as  "  collegiate." 

Many  worthy  folk  followed  the  precedent  set  by  the 
founder,  and  added  to  the  beauties  of  the  church ;  chief 
among  them  Thomas  Balsall,  Warden  of  the  College  in 
the  second  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  who  built  the 
present  choir  or  chancel  between  the  years  14C5-1490. 

77 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

The  last  beautifier  and  benefactor  was  Dean  Balsall's 
successor,  Ralph  Collingwood.  His  is  the  north  porch 
of  the  church,  and  he  undertook  and  completed  an 
important  alteration  in  the  nave  ;  unroofing  it,  removing 
the  low  Decorated  clerestory,  probably  of  circular 
windows,  and  taking  down  the  walls  to  the  crown  of  the 
nave -arcades ;  then  building  upon  them  the  light  and 
lofty  clerestory  we  see  at  this  day.  He  added  choir-boys 
to  the  establishment,  and  further  endowed  the  College, 
for  their  maintenance.  These  were  the  last  works  in 
the  long  history  of  the  church.  In  1547  the  Reformation 
came  and  swept  away  John  of  Stratford's  chantry  and 
confiscated  the  endowments.  The  priests  were  scattered, 
and  four  years  later  their  College  was  given  by  the  king  to 
John  Dudley,  the  newly-created  Earl  of  Warwick  and  lord 
of  the  manor  in  succession  to  the  Bishops  of  Worcester. 
The  College  reverted  to  the  Crown,  and  in  1576  it  was 
let  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  one  Richard  Coningsby,  who 
in  turn  let  it  to  John  Combe.  It  was  a  fine  and  pictur- 
esque residence,  familiar  enough  to  Shakespeare,  who 
was  on  intimate  terms  with  Combe,  and  received  from 
him  a  bequest  of  £5  on  his  death  in  1614.  It  was 
demolished  in  1799. 

The  church  is  approached  through  the  churchyard  by 
a  fine  avenue  of  lime-trees  leading  up  to  the  north  porch, 
where  a  verger,  or  some  such  creature,  habited  in  a 
hermaphrodite  kind  of  garment,  which  is  neither  exactly 
clerical  nor  lay,  waits  for  the  visitor's  sixpences;  for 
you  may  not  enter  for  nothing,  unless  perhaps  at  times 
of  divine  service,  and  even  then  are  allowed  but  grudg- 
ingly by  these  clerical  entrepreneurs,  who  suspect  you 
have  come  not  so  much  for  worship  as  with  the  idea  of 
depriving  them  of  a  sixpence.  I  think,  however,  you 
would  find  it  difficult  to  glimpse  the  chancel  and  the 
Shakespeare  monument  before  the  intention  would  be 

78 


STRATFORD   CHURCH 

suspected  and  the  enterprising  person  successfully 
headed  off. 

We  will  fii'st  encircle  the  exterior,  where  the  many 
gravestones  of  departed  Stratford  worthies  lean  at  every 
imaginable  angle,  the  oldest  of  them,  almost,  or  perhaps 
absolutely,  contemporary  with  Shakespeare,  grown  or 
growing  undecipherable.  Some  day  Stratford  will  be 
sorry  for  neglecting  them  and  their  possible  interest  in 
the  comparative  study  of  Shakespeare  and  his  fellow- 
townsmen.  But  everything  connected,  either  intimately 
or  remotely,  with  him  has  always  been  neglected  until 
the  record  has  almost  perished.  It  is  the  singular  fate 
of  Shakespearean  associations. 

The  exterior  of  the  fabric,  it  will  soon  be  noticed,  is 
greatly  weathered  ;  more  particularly  the  Perpendicular 
chancel,  which  must  at  no  distant  date  be  restored. 
It  is  surprising,  and  an  excellent  tribute  to  the  security 
of  the  foundations  of  this  work,  built  on  the  banks  of 
the  river  over  four  hundred  years  ago,  that  its  walls 
have  not  fallen  seriously  out  of  plumb,  like  that  of  the 
north  nave -arcade ;  especially  when  the  rather  daring 
slightness  of  the  design  is  considered,  consisting  of  vast 
mullioned  and  transomed  windows  with  but  little  wall- 
space  between.  The  gargoyles  leering  down  from  the 
dripstones  are  a  weird  series  of  bat-winged  creatures 
of  nightmare -land.  On  the  south  side,  however,  is  a 
very  good  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff  gargoyle,  and  next  it, 
going  westward,  a  nondescript  Falstaffian  monster,  his 
legs  amputated  by  time  and  weather. 

The  churchyard  wall  goes  sheer  down  into  the  Avater 
of  the  Avon.  The  elms  look  down  upon  the  stream, 
the  rooks  hold  noisy  parliaments  in  their  boughs,  and 
the  swans  float  stately  by. 

Entering  by  the  roomy  north  porch,  where  the  person 
with  the  bisexual  garments  will  take  your  sixpence  and 

79 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

sell  you  picture-postcards,  it  is  noticed  that  the  good 
Late  Perpendicular  stone  panelling  is  obscured,  and  the 
effect  destroyed,  by  the  extreme  licence  given  in  the 
placing  of  monumental  tablets  on  the  walls ;  a  practice, 
judging  from  the  dates  upon  them,  still  in  existence. 
It  is  quite  clear  from  this  that  the  building  might  well 
be  in  better  hands.     A  very  fine  brazen  knocker  with 


AXCIEXT    KNOCKER,    STRATFORD-ON-AVOX    CHURCH. 

grotesque  head  holding  the  ring  in  its  mouth  is  a  feature 
of  the  doorway.  Although  afhxed  to  late  fifteenth- 
century  wood-work,  the  knocker  Avould  seem  really  to 
be  nearly  two  hundred  years  earlier.  It  appears  on 
picture-cards  without  number  as  the  "  Sanctuary 
Knocker,"  and  metal  reproductions  of  it  are  to  be  had 
in  the  town;  but  there  is  nothing  to  show  that  this 
church  was  ever  one  of  those  that  owned  the  privilege 
of  sanctuary.  In  the  inexact  modern  way,  every  curious 
old  knocker  on  church  doors  is  "  sanctuary  " ;  but  in 
reality  the   ancient  privilege   was  too   valuable   to  be 

80 


THE   OLD   REGISTERS 

granted  with  the  indiscriminate  freedom  this  would 
argue. 

Immediately  within  the  church  is  seen  the  old  register- 
book  in  a  glass  case,  containing  the  entries  recording  the 
baptism  and  burial  of  Shakespeare,  with  the  broken  bow 
of  the  old  font  at  which  he  was  baptised.  Many  years 
ago  it  was  removed  from  the  church,  to  make  room  for 
a  new,  and  lay  neglected  in  a  garden  in  the  town.  It 
has  been  re-lined  with  lead,  and  is  used  for  baptisms,  on 
request. 

From  the  west  end  of  the  nave,  where  these  relics  are 
placed,  the  long  view  eastward  shows  this  to  be  a  very 
striking  example  of  those  churches  whose  chancels  are 
not  on  the  same  axis  with  the  rest  of  the  building.  The 
chancel  in  this  instance  inclines  very  markedly  to  the 
north.  The  symbolism  of  this  feature  in  ancient  churches 
is  still  matter  for  dispute ;  and  it  is  really  doubtful  if  it 
is  symbolical  and  not  the  product  of  inexact  planning, 
or  caused  by  some  old  local  conditions  of  the  site  which 
do  not  now  appear ;  or  whether  it  was  thought  to 
produce  some  acoustical  advantages.  It  is  thought  that 
no  example  can  be  adduced  of  an  inclination  southwards, 
and  that,  therefore,  the  feature  is  a  designed  one.  The 
favourite  interpretation  is  that  it  repeats  the  inclination 
of  the  Saviour's  head  upon  the  Cross. 

Advancing  up  the  nave,  it  will  soon  be  noticed  that 
the  north  nave-arcade  is  greatly  out  of  plumb,  and  leans 
outwards ;  a  result,  no  doubt,  of  Collingwood's  altera- 
tions and  additions  placing  too  heavy  a  weight  upon  it. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  north  aisle  is  the  former  Lady 
Chapel,  now  and  for  long  past  known  as  the  Clopton 
Chapel,  from  the  tombs  of  that  family  placed  there. 
No  structural  difference,  no  variation  in  the  plan  of  the 
church,  marks  the  chapel  from  the  rest  of  the  building, 
from  which  it  is  screened  very  slightly  by  a  low  pierced 
u  81 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

railing  on  one  side,  and  on  the  south,  looking  into  the 
nave,  by  the  ornate  stone  screen  erected  by  Sir  Hugh 
Clopton,  the  founder  of  the  family  chapel  and  architect 
of  his  own  fortunes.  It  is  a  part  of  the  tomb  intended 
for  himself,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  he  saw 
it  rising  to  completion  with  the  satisfaction  of  a  man 
assured  of  being  not  only  wealthy,  but  hoping  to  live 
in  fame  as  the  benefactor  of  his  native  town,  for  which 
he  did  so  much. 

The  screen  is  crested  with  elaborate  pierced  con- 
ventional Tudor  foliage,  and  fronted  with  his  arms,  and 
with  those  of  the  City  of  London,  the  Grocers'  Company? 
and  the  Merchants  of  the  Staple.  The  brass  inscribed 
plates  have  long  since  been  torn  away,  and  the  tomb  is 
entirely  without  inscription  or  effigy;  as  perhaps  it  is 
well  it  should  be,  for,  in  spite  of  all  these  elaborate 
preparations,  and  although  directing  that  he  should  lie 
here,  Sir  Hugh  Clopton  was,  after  all,  buried  in  the  City 
of  London,  where  he  had  made  his  fortune,  and  of  which 
he  was  Lord  Mayor  in  1492,  and  in  which  he  died  in  1496. 
The  church  of  St.  Margaret,  Lothbury,  where  he  was 
buried,  perished  in  the  Great  Fire  of  London,  one 
hundred  and  seventy  years  later. 

Sir  Hugh  Clopton  died  a  bachelor,  and  the  other 
tombs  are  those  of  his  brother's  descendants.  That  of 
William  Clopton,  who  died  in  1592  and  is  described 
simply  as  "  Esquire,"  stands  against  the  north  wall 
of  the  Chapel.  He  was  great -nephew  of  Sir  Hugh. 
He  is  represented  in  armour,  and  his  wife,  who  fol- 
lowed him  four  years  later,  lies  beside  him  in  effigy, 
both  figures  with  prayerfully  raised  hands.  Above  them, 
on  the  wall,  quite  by  themselves,  are  represented  the 
interesting  family  of  this  worthy  pair,  seven  in  all, 
sculptured  and  painted  in  miniature,  in  the  likeness  of 
so  many  big-headed  Dutch  dolls,  with  the  name  of  each 

82 


THE   CLOPTON   TOMBS 

duly  inscribed ;  Elizabeth,  Lodowicke,  Joyce,  Margaret, 
William,  Anne,  and  again  William,  the  first  of  that  name 
having  died  an  infant,  as  did  also  Elizabeth  and  Lodo- 
wicke. These  three  are  represented  as  little  mummy- 
like creatures,  swathed  tightly  in  linen  folds. 

But  the  most  gorgeous  of  all  the  Clopton  tombs  is 
the  next  in  order  of  date.  This  is  the  lofty  and  ex- 
tremely elaborate  and  costly  monument  of  George 
Carew,  Earl  of  Totnes  and  Baron  Clopton,  who  married 
Joyce,  eldest  daughter  of  the  already  mentioned  William 
Clopton.  He  died  in  1629,  and  his  wife  in  1636.  This 
costly  memorial,  together  with  that  to  her  father  and 
mother,  was  her  handiwork,  and  she  seems  to  have  com- 
pletely enjoyed  herself  in  the  progress  of  the  commission. 
The  Countess  of  Totnes  and  her  husband  are  represented 
in  full-length,  recumbent  effigies,  sculptured  in  alabaster. 
The  Earl  is  shown  in  armour  and  his  wife  is  seen  habited 
in  a  white  fur  robe,  coloured  red  outside.  A  deep  ruff 
is  round  her  neck,  and  she  wears  a  coronet.  The  Earl 
of  Totnes  was  Master  of  the  Ordnance  to  James  the 
First ;  hence  the  symbolical  sculptured  implements  of 
war  in  front  of  the  monument ;  including  two  cannon, 
two  kegs  of  powder  and  a  pile  of  shot;  one  mortar,  a 
gun,  some  halberds  and  a  flag. 

A  later  inscription  records  that  Sir  John  Clopton 
caused  these  tombs  to  be  repaired  and  beautified  in  1714. 
In  1719  he  died,  aged  80 ;  and  in  course  of  time  his  own 
tomb  became  a  candidate  for  repair.  No  Cloptons  then 
survived  to  perform  that  pious  office,  which  was  observed 
by  Sir  Arthur  Hodgson,  the  owner  of  Clopton  House,  in 
1892. 

The  monument  of  Sir  Edward  Walker,  who  died  in 

1676,  is  the  memorial  of  a  man  who  held  some  important 

positions.     He  was  Charles  the  First's  Secretary  of  War, 

and    afterwards    Garter    King-of-Arms    and    military 

G  2  83 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

editor  of  Clarendon's  History  of  the  Rebellion.  He  has 
some  interest  for  the  students  of  Shakespeare's  life,  for 
it  was  he  who  bought  New  Place  in  1675. 

There  are  some  smaller  tablets  on  the  walls,  including 
one  with  a  little  effigy  of  a  certain  Amy  Smith,  who  was 
for  forty  years  "  waiting-gentlewoman  "  to  the  Countess 
of  Totnes.  She  is  seen  devoutly  kneeling  at  a  prie-Dieu 
chair. 


84 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Stratford-on-Avoii  {continued) — Tlie 
Shakespeare  grave  and  monument. 

We  now  pass  beneath  the  arches  of  the  central  tower, 
under  the  organ  and  past  the  transepts,  into  the  chancel. 
The  chief  interest  is,  quite  frankly,  the  Shakespeare 
monument  and  the  graves  of  his  family;  although  even 
were  it  not  for  them,  the  building  itself  and  the  curious 
carvings  of  the  miserere  seats  would  attract  many  a 
visitor. 

It  is  with  feelings  of  something  at  last  accomplished, 
some  necessary  pilgrimage  made,  that  the  cultured 
traveller  stands  before  the  monument  on  the  north 
wall  and  looks  upon  it  and  on  the  row  of  ledger-stones 
on  the  floor.  But  the  sentiments  of  Baconian  mono- 
maniacs are  not  at  all  reverent  and  respectful.  They 
come  also,  but  with  hostile  criticism.  I  think  they 
would  like  to  tear  down  that  monument,  and  I  am 
quite  sure  they  would  desire  nothing  better  than  per- 
mission to  open  that  grave  and  howk  up  whatever  they 
found  there.  For  to  them  Shakespeare  is  "  the  illiterate 
clown  of  Stratford";  a  very  disreputable  person;  an 
impostor  who  could  neither  write  nor  act,  and  yet 
assumed  the  authorship  of  works  by  the  greatest  genius 
of  the  age,  Francis  Bacon.  Twenty-four  years  ago  in 
his  Great  Cryptogram,  Ignatius  Donnelly  exposed  the 
fraud  and  unmasked  Shakespeare.  Some  one  at  that 
time  referred  in  conversation  with  one  of  Mr.  Donnelly's 
ingenious  countrymen  to  "  Shakespeare's  Bust."     "  Yes, 

85 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

he  is,"  rejoined  that  free  and  enhghtened  citizen  :    "  he 
is  bust  and  you  won't  mend  him  again." 

He  referred  to  the  alleged  cryptogram  said  to  be  by 
Bacon,  and  purporting  to  be  discovered  in  the  First 
Folio  edition  of  the  play,  Henry  the  Fourth.  It  is 
amusing  reading,  this  deciphered  cipher,  and  if  we  were 
to  believe  it  and  Bacon  to  be  its  author,  we  should 
have  no  need  to  revise  the  old  estimate  of  Bacon,  "  The 
wisest,  wittiest,  meanest  of  mankind."  We  should, 
however,  find  it  necessary  to  emphasise  "  meanest," 
because  he  is  made  to  reveal  himself  as  one  who  wrote 
treasonable  plays,  and,  being  afraid  to  admit  their  author- 
ship, bribed  Shakespeare  in  a  heavy  sum  to  take  the 
risk  and  retire  out  of  danger  to  Stratford-on-Avon.  It 
is  not  a  convincing  tale;  but  it  is  printed  with  much 
elaboration  ;  and  Bacon  is  made  to  show  an  astonishingly 
intimate  knowledge  of  Shakespeare's  family  and  affairs. 
He  uses  very  ungentlemanly,  not  to  say  unphilosophical, 
language,  and  leaves  Shakespeare  without  a  shred  of 
character.  He  shows  how  suddenly  this  misbegotten 
rogue,  this  whoreson  knave,  this  gorbellied  rascal  with 
the  wagging  paunch  and  the  many  loathsome  diseases 
which  have  made  him  old  before  his  time  leaves  London, 
where  he  is  in  the  midst  of  his  fame  as  a  dramatist,  and 
retires  to  live  upon  his  ill-gotten  wealth  as  a  country 
gentleman  in  his  native  town  of  Stratford-on-Avon. 
He  was  never  an  actor,  and  only  succeeded  in  one  part, 
that  of  Falstaff,  for  which  he  was  peculiarly  suited  be- 
cause of  his  great  greasy  stomach,  at  which,  and  not  at 
the  excellence  of  his  acting,  people  came  to  laugh.  Thus 
says  Bacon ;  always  according  to  Mr.  Ignatius  Donnelly, 
in  the  bi-literal  cipher  he  persuaded  himself  he  found. 
Here  we  see  Bacon  the  philosopher,  in  very  angry, 
unphilosophic  mood,  as  abusive  as  any  fish-fag  or  Sally 
Slapcabbage. 

86 


.-«.* 


'  •^SL.^tMSssmt 


.SIIAKESI'EAUE  S    AIONUME.NT. 


[To /are  p.  Stj. 


THE   BACONIAN   FALLACY 

And  then  this  cuckoo,  this  strutting  jay,  who  sets 
up  to  be  a  gentleman  with  a  brand-new  coat  of  arms 
presently  dies,  untimely,  at  fifty-two  years  of  age, 
just  like  your  Shakespeare s !  He  must  have  had  some 
good  reason  of  his  own  for  it ;  probably  the  better  to  do 
Bacon  out  of  his  due  fame  with  posterity.  But  Bacon 
was  not  to  be  outwitted.  He  heard  early  in  1616  that 
Shakespeare  was  in  failing  health,  and  sent  down  on 
that  three  days'  journey  from  London  to  Stratford-on- 
Avon  two  of  Shakespeare's  friends,  Michael  Drayton 
and  Ben  Jonson,  who  were  in  the  secret  of  the  author- 
ship. They  were  instructed  to  see  that  if  Shakespeare 
really  insisted  upon  dying,  the  secret  should  not  be 
divulged  at  the  time.  And  Shakespeare,  like  the  un- 
grateful wretch  he  was,  did  die.  The  diary  of  the 
Rev.  John  Ward,  vicar  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  contains 
an  entry  in  1662,  referring  reminiscently  to  Shakespeare's 
last  days — ■ 

"  Shakespeare,  Drayton  and  Ben  Jonson  had  a  merrie 
meeting,  and  it  seems,  drank  too  hard,  for  Shakespeare 
died  of  a  feavour  there  contracted." 

Donnelly  suggests  that  Drayton  and  Jonson  in  Bacon's 
interest  duly  saw  Shakespeare  buried,  and  so  deeply 
that  it  would  be  for  ever  unlikely  he  should  be  exhumed, 
and  Bacon's  secret  revealed.  He  founds  this  upon  a 
letter  discovered  in  1884  in  the  Bodleian  Library, 
Oxford,  written  in  1694  by  one  William  Hall,  of  Queen's 
College,  to  a  friend,  Edward  Thwaites ;  in  which,  in  the 
course  of  describing  a  visit  to  Stratford-on-Avon,  he 
states  that  Shakespeare  was  buried  "  full  seventeen  feet 
deep — deep  enough  to  secure  him  !  "  This  recalls  at 
once  the  reply  of  one  of  Mr.  Donnelly's  irreverent 
countrymen  before  the  tomb  of  Nelson  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral.  The  verger  had  pointed  out  that  the 
Admiral's  body  was  enclosed  in  a  leaden  coffin  and  a 

87 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

wooden  outer  covering,  and  then  placed  in  a  marble 
sarcophagus  weighing  90  tons.  "  I  guess  you've  got 
him!"  exclaimed  the  contemplative  stranger;  "if 
ever  he  gets  out  of  that,  cable  me,  at  my  expense  !  " 
No  doubt  Ben  Jonson  and  Drayton  guessed  they  had 
got  Shakespeare  safe  enough,  but  to  make  doubly  sure 
(says  Donnelly)  they  invented  and  had  engraved  the 
famous  verse  which  appears  on  the  gravestone,  involving 
blessings  upon  the  man  Avho  "  spares  these  stones  " 
and  curses  upon  he  who  moves  the  poet's  bones.  The 
world  has  always  thought  Shakespeare  himself  was  the 
author  of  these  lines.  The  reason  for  them  is  found  in 
the  horror  felt  by  Shakespeare — and  reflected  in  Hamlet 
— at  the  disturbance  of  the  remains  of  the  dead.  In 
his  time  it  was  the  custom  to  rifle  the  older  graves,  in 
order  to  provide  room  for  fresh  burials,  and  then  to 
throw  the  bones  from  them  into  the  vaulted  charnel- 
house  beneath  the  chancel.  This  revolting  irreverejice, 
which,  as  a  long-established  custom  at  that  tmie, 
seemed  a  natural  enough  thing  to  the  average  person, 
was  horrific  to  one  of  Shakespeare's  exceptional  sensi- 
bilities ;  and  he  adopted  not  only  this  deep  burial  but 
also  the  curse  upon  the  sacrilegious  hand  that  should 
dare  disturb  his  rest.  There  is  not  the  least  room  for 
objection  to  this  story;  but  the  Baconians  know  better. 
"  There  must  have  been  some  reason,'"'  objects  Donnelly, 
in  italics.  There  was ;  the  reason  already  shown. 
But  in  dealing  with  a  fellow  like  Shakespeare  you — if 
you  are  a  Baconian — have  to  go  behind  the  obvious  and 
the  palpable  and  seek  the  absurd  and  improbable.  It 
does  not  appear  what  Shakespeare's  widow,  his 
daughters,  his  sons-in-law  and  his  executors  were  doing 
while  Drayton  and  Ben  Jonson  were  thus  having  their 
own  Baconian  way  with  Shakespeare's  body.  They, 
according  to  this  theory,  simply  looked  on;    which  we 

88 


LITTLE-KNOWN   FACTS 


might  think  an  absurd  thing  to  suppose,  except  that 
nothing  is  too  absurd  for  a  Baconian,  as  we  shall  now 
see. 

Not  only  did  Drayton  and  Jonson  invent  and  get 
these  verses  engraved,  they  also — more  amazing  still — 
inserted  Bacon's  bi-literal  cipher  into  them.  Now  it 
is  to  be  remarked  here  that  the  deeply-engraven  lines 
upon  which  so  many  thousands  of  pilgrims  gaze  reverently 
are  not,  in  their  present  form,  so  old  as  they  appear  to 
be,  but  were  recut,  and  the  lettering  greatly  modified, 
about  1831.     Not  one  person  in  ten  thousand  of  those 


ggSlEJ^^fe&^-^HSI^l 


INSCRIPTION    ON    SHAKESPEARE  S    GRAVE. 

who  come  to  this  spot  is  aware  of  the  fact,  and  no  illustra- 
tion of  the  original  lettering  exists ;  but  George  Steevens 
the  Shakespearean  scholar,  wrote  of  it,  about  1770,  as 
an  "  uncouth  mixture  of  small  and  capital  letters."  He 
transcribed  it,  and  so  also  in  their  turn  did  Knight  and 
Malone.  Some  slight  discrepancies  exist  between  these 
transcriptions,  in  the  exact  dispositions  of  the  letters, 
but  the  actual  inscription  appears  to  have  been  as 
under — 

''Good  Freiifl  for  lesvs  SAKE  forbeare 
To  fliGG  T-E  Dvst  Eiiclo-Ased  HE. Re. 
Bleste  be  T-K  Man  Y*^  spares  T-Es  Stones 
And  cvrst  be  He  Y'  moves  my  bones." 

The  hyphens  between  the  words  "  the  "  and  "  thes  " 
represent  the  old-time  habit  of  engraving  some  of  the 

89 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

letters  conjoined,  as  seen  repeated  in  the  existing  in- 
scription illustrated  here,  in  which  the  word  "  bleste  " 
forms  a  prominent  example.  In  that  word  the  letters 
"  ste  "  are  in  like  manner  conjoined,  leading  very 
many  of  the  not  fully-informed  among  the  copyists  of 
inscriptions  to  read  it  "  blese." 

Halliwell-Phillipps,  the  foremost  Shakespearean  au- 
thority of  his  age  (whom  his  arch-enemy,  the  emphatic 
F.  J.  Furnivall  delighted,  by  the  way,  to  style  "  Hell-P  ") 
thus  refers  to  the  re-cut  inscription  in  his  Outlines  of  the 
Life  of  Shakespeare,  1881 — 

"  The  honours  of  repose,  which  have  thus  far  heen  conceded  to  the 
poet's  remains,  have  not  been  extended  to  the  tombstone.  The  latter 
had  liy  the  middle  of  the  last  century  (?.  e.  about  IT-^O)  sunk  below 
the  level  of  the  floor,  and  about  fifty  years  ago  (r.  1881)  had  become 
so  much  decayed  as  to  suggest  a  vandalic  order  for  its  removal,  and  in 
its  stead  to  place  a  7iew  slab,  one  which  marks  certainly  the  locality  of 
Shakespeare's  grave,  and  continues  the  record  of  the  farewell  lines, 
but  indicates  nothing  more.  The  original  memorial  has  wandered 
from  its  allotted  station  no  man  can  tell  whither — a  sacrifice  to  the 
insane  worship  of  prosaic  neatness,  that  mischievous  demon  whose 
votaries  have  practically  destroyed  so  many  of  the  priceless  relics  of 
ancient  P^ngland  and  her  gifted  sons." 

The  cipher  which  Donnelly,  the  resourceful  sleuth- 
hound,  pretends  he  has  found  in  the  older  inscription,  is 
destroyed  by  the  re-arrangement  in  the  new.  It  was 
not,  he  says,  the  sheer  illiteracy  of  the  local  mason  who 
cut  the  original  letters  that  accounts  for  the  eccentric 
appearance  of  capitals  where  they  have  no  business  to 
be;  for  the  hyphen  which  so  oddly  divides  the  word 
"  Enclo-Ased  " ;  for  the  full-stops  in  "  HE.Re."  or  for 
the  curious  choice  that  writes  "  lesvs  "  in  small  letters 
and  "SAKE"  in  large  capitals.  No;  it  was  the 
necessities  of  the  cipher  which. accounted  for  this  weird 
"  derangement  of  epitaphs  " ;  and  Donnelly  proceeds 
to  emulate  the  conjurer  who  produces  unexpected  things 
from  empty  hats,  and  he  finally  arrives  at  this  startling 
revelation — 

90 


THE   BACON   SYNDICATE 

"  Francis  Bacon  wrote  the  Greene,  Marlowe,  and 
Shakespeare  plays." 

As  Mark  Twain — another  Baconian — says,  "  Bacon 
was  a  born  worker."  Yes,  indeed;  but  he  understates 
it,  if  we  were  to  believe  this  revelation.  To  have  done 
all  this  he  would  need  to  have  been  a  syndicate. 


91 


CHAPTER   X 

Tlie    Church    of   the    Holy   Trinity,    Stratford-on-Avou  {concluded) — 
The  Sliakespeare  grave  and  moimnient — The  Miserere  Seats. 

The  Baconians  are  so  extravagant  that  it  becomes 
scarce  worth  while  to  refute  their  wild  statements ;  but 
when  they  are  carried  to  these  extremities  we  may  well 
note  them,  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  laugh.  But  perhaps 
Sir  Edwin  Durning-La\\Tence  gives  us  the  better 
entertainment  when  he  tells  us  that  Bacon  "vvi'ote  the 
preface  to  the  Authorised  Version  of  the  Bible,  and  was 
in  fact  the  literary  editor  of  that  translation  and  re- 
sponsible for  its  style  ! 

With  an  ineffable  serenity  the  portrait-figure  of 
Shakespeare  (generally  called  a  "  bust,"  but  it  is  a  half- 
length)  in  the  monument  looks  down  from  the  north 
wall  of  the  spacious  chancel  upon  the  graves  of  himself 
and  his  family.  The  monument  itself  is  thoroughly 
characteristic  of  the  Renascence  taste  of  the  period  :  in 
the  church  of  St.  Andrew  Undershaft,  in  the  city  of 
London,  you  may  see  a  not  dissimilar  example  to  John 
Stow,  the  historian,  who  died  eleven  years  before  Shake- 
speare. He  also,  like  Shakespeare's  effigy,  holds  a  quill 
pen  in  his  hand.  The  accompanying  illustration  renders 
description  scarce  necessary,  and  it  is  only  to  the  portrait 
that  we  need  especially  direct  attention.  In  common 
with  everything  relating  to  Shakespeare,  it  has  been  the 
subject  of  great  controversy  :  not  altogether  warranted, 
for  it  is  certain  that  it  was  executed  before  1623,  seven 
years  aftei'  the  poet's  death,  when  his  widow,  daughters 

92 


I'     1    ^ 


i.r- 

*"WWfc-/ 

^'^ 

f ,  - 

'  -  ', 

/•-' ' 

y"  ,  -7 

/'T-'T^rr  -' 

'^" 

■^ 

afe            ___            /j 

QUINTESSENTIAL   APPRECIATION 

and  sons-in-law  were  yet  living,  and  it  seems  beyond  all 
reasonable  argument  to  deny  that  a  monument  erected 
under  their  supervision  should,  and  does,  in  fact,  present 
as  good  a  likeness  of  him  as  they  could  procure.  The 
effigy  was  sculptured  by  one  Gerard  Johnson  (or  Janssen), 
son  of  a  Dutch  craftsman  in  this  mortuary  art,  whose 
workshop  being  in  Southwark  near  the  "  Globe  " 
theatre,  must  have  rendered  Shakespeare's  personal 
appearance  familiar  to  him,  while  the  features  are 
considered  to  be  copied  from  a  death-mask  which  was 
probably  taken  by  Dr.  John  Hall,  husband  of  Shake- 
speare's elder  daughter,  Susanna. 
The  inscription  runs — 

'^  Ivdicio  Pylivm,  genio  Socratem,  arte  Alaronem, 
Terra  tegit,  popvlvs  myeret,  Olympus  liabet." 

which  is  translated  thus — 

"  He  was  in  judgment  a  Nestor^  in  genius  a  Socrates,  and  in  art  a 
Virgil ;  the  earth  covers,  the  people  mourn,  and  Heaven  holds  him." 

There  then  follow  the  English  lines — 

"Stay,  Passenger,  why  goest  thov  by  so  fast? 
Read  if  thov  canst,  when  enviovs  Deatli  hath  plast 
AVithin  this  monvment,  Shakespeare,  witli  whome 
Qvick  Natvre  dide  ;  whose  name  doth  deck  y^  Tombe 
Far  more  then  coste,  sitli  all  y*-  He  hath  writt 
Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  his  witt, 

"  Obiit  ano  doi  161(5, 
^tatis  53,  Die  23  Ap." 

The  author  of  Shakespeare's  epitaph  is  unknown.  It 
would  seem  to  have  been  some  one  who  had  not  seen  the 
monument,  and  knew  nothing  of  its  character ;  for  he 
imagines  his  lines  are  to  be  inscribed  upon  a  tomb  within 
which  the  poet's  body  is  placed.  But  however  little  he 
knew  of  Shakespeare's  monument,  he  knew  the  worth 
of  his  plays  and  poems  :  "  Shakespeare,  with  whom 
quick  nature  died."  It  is  the  very  summary,  the 
quintessence,  of  Shakespearean  appreciation. 

93 


SUMIMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Like  everything  else  associated  with  Shakespeare, 
the  monument  has  had  its  vicissitudes.  The  effigy, 
originally  painted  to  resemble  life,  showed  the  poet  to 
have  had  auburn  hair  and  light  hazel  eyes.  In  1748 
a  well-meaning  Mr.  John  Ward  repaired  the  monument 
and  retouched  the  effigy  with  colour,  and  in  1793  Malone 
persuaded  the  vicar  to  have  it  painted  white  ;  an  outrage 
satirised  by  the  lines  wi'itten  in  the  church  visitors'-book 
in  1810— 

"  Stranger,  to  whom  this  Monument  is  shewn. 
Invoke  the  Poet's  curse  upon  IVIalone 
Whose  meddling  zeal  his  harharous  taste  hetrays. 
And  smears  his  tomhstone  as  he  marr'd  his  plays." 

It  was  not  until  1861  that  the  white  paint  was  scraped 
off  and  the  original  colour  restored,  by  the  light  of  what 
traces  remained. 

Opinions  have  greatly  varies  as  to  the  merits  of  the 
portrait,  and  many  observers  have  been  disappointed 
with  it.  Dr.  Ingleby,  for  one,  was  distressed  by  its 
"  painful  stare,  with  goggle  eyes  and  gaping  mouth." 
But  the  measure  of  this  disappointment  is  exactly  in 
proportion  to  the  perhaps  exaggerated  expectations 
held.  We  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  sculptor  worked 
from  a  death-mask,  and  that  the  expression  was  thus  a 
conventional  restoration. 

Mark  Twain,  who,  like  the  egregious  Ignatius  Donnelly, 
did  not  believe  that  Shakespeare  wrote  Shakespeare, 
founded  a  good  deal  of  his  disbelief  on  the  unvexed 
serenity  of  this  monumental  bust.  It  troubled  him 
greatly  that  it  should  be  there,  so  serene  and  emotionless. 
"  The  bust,  too,  there  in  the  Stratford  church.  The 
precious  bust,  the  priceless  bust,  the  calm  bust  with  the 
dandy  moustache  and  the  putty  face,  unseamed  of  care — 
that  face  which  has  looked  passionlessly  down  upon  the 
awed  pilgrim  for  a  hundred   and   fifty  years,  and  will 

94 


TIMOROUS   TROUBLE-TOMBS 

still  down  look  upon  the  awed  pilgrim  three  hundred 
more,  with  the  deep,  deep,  deep,  subtle,  subtle,  subtle 
expression  of  a  bladder."  What,  then,  did  he  expect  ? 
A  tragic  mask,  a  laughing  face  of  coiuedy  ?  But 
Mark  Twain  hardly  counts  as  a  Shakespeare  critic. 

It  is  forgotten  by  most  people  that  the  painting  and 
scraping  have  wrought  some  changes,  not  for  the  better, 
in  the  expression  of  the  face,  tending  towards  making 
it  what  Halliwell-Phillipps  too  extravagantly  calls  a 
"miserable  travesty  of  an  intellectual  human  being." 
However  lifeless  the  expression,  we  see  the  features  are 
those  of  a  man  of  affairs.  They  are  good  and  in  no  way 
abnormal.  The  brow  is  broad  and  lofty;  the  jaw  and 
chin,  while  not  massive,  perhaps  more  than  a  thought 
heavier  than  usual.  This  was  a  man,  one  thinks,  who 
would  have  succeeded  in  whatever  walk  of  life  he 
chose,  and  that  is  exactly  the  impression  derived  from 
the  known  facts  and  the  traditions  of  Shakesj^eare's  life. 

There  have  been  numerous  arguments  in  recent  times 
in  favour  of  digging  that  dust  which  the  poet's  curse 
has  thus  far  kept  inviolate,  but  the  courage  has  been 
lacking  to  it ;  whether  in  view  of  the  curse  or  in  fear  of 
public  opinion  seems  to  be  uncertain. 

The  late  J.  O.  Halliwell-Phillipps  wrote,  about  1885  : 
"It  is  not  many  years  since  a  phalanx  of  trouble - 
tombs,  lanterns  and  spades  in  hand,  assembled  in  the 
chancel  at  dead  of  night,  intent  on  disobeying  the  solemn 
injunction  that  the  bones  of  Shakespeare  were  not  to  be 
disturbed.  But  the  supplicatory  lines  prevailed.  There 
were  some  amongst  the  number  who,  at  the  last  moment, 
refused  to  incur  the  warning  condemnation  and  so  the 
design  was  happily  abandoned." 

Nor  would  it  ajjpear  that  the  graves  of  his  family 
have  been  disturbed.  They  lie  in  a  row,  with  his  own, 
before   the   altar,  a   position  they   occupy  by  right   of 

95 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Shakespeare  having  purchased  the  rectorial  tithes,  and 
thus  becoming  that  curious  anomaly,  a  "  lay  rector." 
It  matters  little  or  nothing  where  one's  bones  are  laid, 
but  the  doing  this,  and  thus  acquiring  the  right  of 
sepulture  in  the  most  honoured  place  in  the  church, 
seems  to  imply  that  Shakespeare  expected  to  found  a 
family,  and  to  see  that  his  name  was  honoured  to  future 
generations  in  his  native  town. 

We  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  clergy  of  that  time 
welcomed  Shakespeare's  burial  in  this  honoured  place, 
but  they  could  not  help  themselves.  He  had  acquired 
the  right,  and  although  he  had  lived  well  into  a  time 
when  puritanism  had  banished  plays  and  players  from 
Stratford,  and  although  as  a  playwi'ight  he  must  have 
been  regarded  by  many  as  a  lost  soul — unless,  indeed, 
he  became  a  converted  man  in  his  last  year  or  so — his 
rights  had  to  be  observed. 

Immediately  next  the  wall  is  the  flat  stone  that  marks 
the  grave  of  Anne  Shakespeare,  who  survived  her  hus- 
band, and  died  August  6th,  1623,  aged  sixty-seven.  An 
eight-line  Latin  verse,  probably  by  her  son-in-law.  Dr. 
John  Hall,  and  couched  in  the  most  affectionate  terms,  is 
inscribed  upon  a  small  brass  plate ;  it  is  thus  rendered — 

"  Milk,  life  thou  gavest.     For  a  boon  so  great^ 
Mother,  alas  !    I  give  thee  but  a  stone  ; 
O  !    might  some  angel  blest  remove  its  weight. 
Thy  form  should  issue  like  thy  Saviour's  own. 
But  vain  my  prayers ;    O  Christ,  come  quickly,  come  ! 
And  thou,  my  Mother,  shalt  from  hence  arise, 
'i'liougli  closed  as  yet  within  this  narrow  tomb. 
To  meet  thy  Saviour  in  the  starry  skies." 

Next  in  order  comes  the  slab  covering  the  grave  of 
Shakespeare  himself,  and  following  it  that  of  Thomas 
Nash,  husband  of  Elizabeth  Hall,  grand-daughter  of 
the  poet.  He  died  in  1647,  aged  fifty-three,  and  is 
honoured  in  a  four -line  Latin  verse.     Fourthly  comes 

96 


A  DEFEATED   PROJECT 

the  grave  of  Dr.  Hall,  who  died  in  1635,  aged  sixty,  with 
a  six-Hne  Latin  verse,  and  next  is  that  of  Susanna, 
Shakespeare's  elder  daughter,  wife  of  Dr.  Hall.  She 
died  in  1649,  aged  sixty-six,  and  has  this  poetic  apprecia- 
tion for  epitaph — 

"Witty  above  lier  sexe,  biit  that's  not  all. 
Wise  to  Salvatiou  was  good  Mistris  Haill, 
Something  of  Shakespeare  was  in  that,  but  this- 
Wlioly  of"  him  with  whom  she's  now  in  blisse. 
Then,  Passenger,  ha'st  we're  a  teare 

To  weepe  with  her  that  wept  with  all  ? 
That  wept,  yet  set  lierselfe  to  chere 

Them  up  with  comforts  cordiall. 
Her  Love  shall  live,  her  mercy  spread, 
When  thou  hast  ne're  a  teare  to  shed." 

This  touching  tribute  was  nearly  lost  in  the  gross 
outrage  perpetrated  in  or  about  1707,  when  it  was 
erased  for  the  purpose  of  providing  room  for  an  inscrip- 
tion to  one  Richard  Watts.  Happily  Dugdale,  in  his 
monumental  history  of  Warwickshire,  had  recorded  it, 
and  it  was  re -cut  from  that  evidence  in  1836. 

It  is  gratifying  to  note  that  no  monuments  to  self- 
advertising  members  of  the  theatrical  profession,  or 
others  keen  to  obtain  a  reflected  glory  from  association 
with  Shakespeare,  have  been  allowed  here,  although  we 
have  to  thank  an  aroused  public  opinion,  and  not  the 
clergy,  the  natural  guardians  of  the  spot,  for  that.  It 
was  proposed,  a  few  years  ago,  to  place  a  memorial  to 
that  entirely  blameless  actress,  well  versed  in  Shake- 
spearean parts,  Helen  Faucit,  Lady  Martin,  on  the  wall 
opposite  Shakespeare's  monument,  and  it  was  nearly 
accomplished.  The  clergy  blessed  the  project,  the 
public  were  allowed  to  hear  little  or  nothing  about  it, 
and  the  thing  would  have  been  done,  except  for  protests 
raised  at  the  eleventh  hour.  The  monument  eventually 
found  its  way  to  the  Shakespeare  Memorial,  where  it 
may  now  be  found,  but  those  responsible  for  the  proposal 
H  97 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

were  not  wholly  to  be  baulked,  and  the  evidence  of  their 
persistence  is  to  be  seen  in  the  nave,  where  a  very  elaborate 
dark-green  marble  pulpit,  in  memory  of  Helen  Faucit, 
and  given  by  her  husband.  Sir  Theodore  Martin,  attracts 
attention. 

There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  praise  and  admiration 
of  the  modern  stained  glass  in  the  noble  windows  of  the 
chancel  and  the  windows  of  the  church  in  general,  includ- 
ing those  given  by  American  admirers  of  Shakespeare,  but 
the  truth  is  that  there  is  no  stained  glass  in  Stratford 
church  above  the  commercial  level  of  the  ordinary 
ecclesiastical  furnisher,  and  the  sooner  the  fact  is 
recognised,  the  better  for  all  concerned.  The  guide- 
books will  tell  you  nothing  of  this,  but  we  have  to  see 
things  for  ourselves,  and  use  our  own  judgment. 

The  tomb  of  the  rebuilder  of  the  chancel,  Thomas 
Balsall,  is  little  noticed.  It  is  seen  under  the  east 
window,  on  the  north  side,  and  is  a  greatly  mutilated, 
but  still  beautiful,  altar -tomb.  Above  it,  on  the  wall, 
is  the  monument  with  fine  portrait-busts  of  Richard 
Combe  and  his  intended  wife,  Judith,  who  died  1649. 
The  altar-tomb,  with  effigy,  of  John  Combe,  1614,  of  the 
College,  and  of  Welcombe,  a  friend  of  Shakespeare, 
is  against  the  east  wall.  Combe  was  a  man  of  wealth, 
who  did  not  disdain  the  part  of  money-lender.  He  had 
the  reputation  of  an  usurer,  although  ten  per  cent,  was 
his  moderate  rate,  and,  according  to  the  tradition, 
hearing  it  said  that  Shakespeare  had  an  epitaph  waiting 
for  him,  begged  to  hear  it.  This,  then,  was  what  he 
heard — 

"Ten  in  a  hundred  lies  here  engraved, 
'Tis  a  hundred  to  ten  liis  soul  is  not  saved. 
If  any  man  ask,  Who  lies  in  this  tomb? 
Ho  !   ho  !    says  the  Devil,  'tis  my  John-a-Comhe." 

It  is  an  idle  story,  and  the  verse  is  adapted  from  an 

epigram  in  the  jest-books  of  the  age. 

98 


THE   MISERERES 

A  prominent  feature  of  a  collegiate  church  was  the 
stalls,  with  their  miserere  seats,  for  the  priests,  and  we 
have  here  stalls  for  twenty-six,  still  retaining  their 
beautifully  carved  seats,  little  injured  by  time  or  violence. 
We  do,  in  fact,  frequently  find  the  miserere  carvings 
uninjured  in  cathedrals,  abbeys  and  collegiate  churches ; 
largely  because  they  are  always  on  the  underside  of  the 
seats  and  thus  apt  to  be  overlooked.  Those  at  Stratford 
are  well  up  to  the  general  level  of  interest  and  amuse- 
ment. 

Amusement  ?  Yes.  The  very  broadest  fun,  some- 
times particularly  coarse,  lurks  in  these  often  unsuspected 
places ;  and  the  greatest  artistry  of  the  wood-carver  too, 
who  will  turn  at  random  from  the  loving  rendering  of 
flower  or  foliage,  to  sacred  symbols ;  then  to  the  repre- 
sentation of  birds  and  beasts  and  extraordinary  chimeras 
that  never  existed  outside  the  frontiers  of  Nightmare 
Land ;  and  to  queer  domestic  or  social  scenes.  Here 
wc  find  prime  examples  of  such  things.  Under  one  seat 
a  Crown  of  Thorns  and  the  I.H.S.  occur,  on  either  side 
of  a  scene  showing  a  man  and  wife  fighting.  He  has 
a  long  beaid  which  she  is  pulling  with  one  hand,  while 
with  the  other  she  bastes  him  with  a  ladle.  She  employs 
her  feet,  too,  in  kicking  him. 

Under  the  next  seat  we  see  this  domestic  strife 
resumed,  but  it  is  shown  in  two  scenes,  over  which  a 
central  woman-headed  beast  presides.  Here  the  terma- 
gant pulls  her  husband's  beard  and  tears  his  mouth  open, 
while  he  retaliates  by  pulling  her  hair.  The  other  scene 
represents  the  taming  of  the  shrew.  A  naked  woman  is 
being  thrashed  by  a  man,  and  a  dog  completes  the 
retribution  by  biting  her  leg. 

Among  the  other  carvings  we  note  the  favourite  Bear 
and  Ragged  Staff  of  this  district;  a  beggar's  monkey, 
with  chained  tin  pot,  or  drinking-vessel,  and  a  variety 

H  2  99 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

of  minor  subjects.       Among  the  most  interesting  is  that 
example  illustrated  here. 

The  subject  is  that  of  the  once-popular  legend  of  the 
unicorn,  which  was,  according  to  mediaeval  story,  an 
animal  of  the  fiercest  and  most  untamable  kind,  and 
only  to  be  captured  in  one  way.  This  way  was  to  find 
a  virgin,  at  once  of  great  beauty  and  unquestioned  virtue, 
and  to  conduct  her  to  the  unicorn's  haunts  in  the  green- 
wood.    Immediately  the  animal,  tame  only  in  the  pres- 


A    STRATFORD    MISERERE  :     THE    LEGEND    OF    THE    UNICORN. 


ence  of  a  pure  virgin,  would  come  and  lay  its  head  gently 
and  fearlessly  in  her  lap ;  whereupon  the  hunter  would 
steal  forth  and  slay  the  confiding  beast. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  here  that  the  person  who  could 
invent  such  a  story,  whatever  else  he  was,  and  however 
fearless  his  imagination,  was,  clearly  enough,  no  sports- 
man. It  is  quite  easy  to  imagine  such  an  one  shooting 
a  sitting  pheasant,  or  poisoning  a  fox. 

Here,  in  the  illustration,  we  perceive  the  maiden,  not 
so  beautiful  as  the  carver  intended  her  to  be,  caressing 
the  confiding  unicorn  and  apparently  scratching  him 
behind  the  ear,  while  an  unsportsmanlike  person  digs 
him  in  the  rump  at  leisure,  with  a  spear-headed  weapon. 

100 


CHAPTER   XI 

Sliottery  and  Ainie  Ilatliaway's  Cottage. 

The  hamlet  of  Shottery,  now  growinoj  a  considerable 
village,  is  but  one  mile  from  the  centre  of  Stratford. 
You  come  to  it  most  easily  by  way  of  Rother  Street, 
and  at  the  end  of  that  thoroughfare  will  observe  a 
signpost  marked  "  Footpath  to  Shottery."  The  spot  is 
not  inspiring,  and  one  could  well  wish  Shottery,  the 
home  of  Anne  Hathaway  and  the  scene  of  Shakespeare's 
wooing,  had  not  been  so  near  the  town.  Stratford  is  a 
pleasant  place,  and  as  little  bedevilled  with  modern 
unhistorical  suburbs  as  any  town  of  its  size ;  but  there 
is  a  red  rash  of  new  and  quite  typically  suburban  villas 
on  these  outskirts.  I  feel  quite  sure  the  sanitation  is 
perfect  and  that  there  are  baths  and  hot  and  cold  water 
laid  on  to  every  one  of  these  "desirable  residences"; 
and  no  one  would  breathe  upon  the  obvious  respecta- 
bility of  the  people  who  live  in  them.  Respectable  ? 
Most  certainly ;  why,  by  the  evidence  of  one's  ears 
in  passing,  every  house  appears  to  have  a  piano;  and 
the  possession  of  one  would  seem  in  these  times  to 
be  by  far  a  better-accepted  criterion  of  respectability 
than  the  ownership  of  a  gig;  which  Carlyle  in  his 
day  noted  as  the  ideal.  Now,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
none  of  the  houses  Shakespeare  ever  dwelt  in  had  any 
sanitation  at  all ;  if  he  ever  took  a  bath,  he  was  as 
exceptional  in  that  matter  as  in  most  other  things,  and 
quite  unlike  his  generation.  New  Place  had  neither  hot 
nor  cold  water  laid  on,  and  never  had  a  piano.     Judged 

101 


SmOIER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

by  modern  standards  Shakespeare  could  scarcely  have 
been  respectable  :  his  era  did  not  even  know  the  word 
in  its  present  meaning,  which  is  a  terrible  thought ;  let 
us  pause  to  contemplate  the  deficiencies  of  our  ancestors. 

Well,  we  will  not,  at  any  rate,  stay  to  look  longer  at 
these  developments,  but,  like  that  rogue,  Autolycus, 
"jog  on  the  footpath  way,"  a  little  disillusioned  perhaps, 
because  it  presently  leads  to  a  level  railway-crossing 
which  was  not  here  when  Shakespeare  went  across  the 
fields  in  the  summer  evenings  to  see  Anne  Hathaway. 
Thence  coming  upon  allotment  gardens,  where  we  more 
or  less  "  merrily  hent  the  stile-a,"  we  arrive  at  Shottery 
by  way  of  some  tapestry  works  and  a  book-bindery. 

Shottery,  it  is  at  once  seen,  has  been  spoiled,  utterly 
and  irredeemably,  unless  the  recent  doings  are  levelled 
with  the  ground  and  wholly  abolished — which  we  need 
not  expect  to  be  done.  Deplorable  activity  has  lately 
been  manifested  here,  in  the  building  of  rows  of  small, 
cheap  cottages.  The  bloom  has  been  rudely  rubbed  off 
the  peach,  and  the  idyllic  place  which  the  hero-wor- 
shipper fondly  expected  has  ceased  to  be.  Yet  parts 
of  it  are  good.  You  may  turn  your  l)ack  upon  these 
things  and  see  a  very  charming  double  row  of  old 
cottages,  the  Post  Office  among  them,  as  ancient  and 
rustic  and  half-timbered  as  the  rest,  with  a  very  noble 
group  of  trees  for  background,  and  by  way  of  foreground 
a  red  brick  and  timber  barn  belonging  to  Shottery 
manor-house,  whose  old  stone  dovecote  stands  yet  in 
the  garden.  I  have  sketched  these  old  cottages,  in  an 
attempt  to  shoAv  you  how  charming  the  scene  really  is. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  roomy  loft  beneath 
the  roof  of  the  manor-house  was  used  as  a  secret  Roman 
Catholic  place  of  worship  when  that  religion  was  pro- 
scribed, and  that  the  mystery  of  Shakespeare's  marriage 
is  to  be  explained  by  the  ceremony  having  taken  place 

102 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

here.  But,  ingenious  although  the  suggestion  may  be, 
it  has  no  shred  of  evidence  to  support  it,  nor  would  it 
appear  from  anything  we  know  of  Shakespeare's  religious 
beliefs,  that  he  was  a  Roman  Catholic  at  all,  much  less 
a  fanatical  one,  as  such  a  proceeding  would  argue. 

Anne  Hathaway's  cottage  should  certainly  stand  in 
this,  the  better  part  of  the  village,  but  it  is  situated  at 
the  extreme  further  end ;  and  the  hapless  artist  who 
seeks  to  sketch  the  scene  already  described  Avill  find 
himself  acting  as  a  kind  of  honorary  signpost  to  it. 
The  tragedy  of  his  fate  is  that  the  best  point  of  view 
happens  to  be  from  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  that 
the  interruptions  from  motor-cars,  largely  carrying 
Americans,  who  invariably  ask,  "  Saay,  is  this  the  Avaay 
to  Anne  Hathawaay's  cottuj  ?  "  are  incessant. 

The  famous  cottage,  which  is  really  more  than  a 
cottage  and  part  of  a  farmhouse,  comes  into  view  as 
you  round  a  corner  and  cross  a  small  brick  bridge  over 
Shottery  Brook.  The  bridge  is  so  overhung  and  shut 
in  by  trees  that  you  scarcely  notice  it  to  be  a  bridge  at 
all;  but  if  these  be  early  summer  days  and  the  season 
not  exceptionally  dry,  the  brook  can  be  heard  hoarsely 
plunging  beneath,  over  a  quite  respectably  large  weir. 
When  Mistress  Anne  Hathaway  lived  at  the  farmhouse 
now  called  her  cottage — which  is  an  entirely  wrong  use 
of  the  possessive  case,  for  it  never  belonged  to  her — 
Shottery  Brook  was  to  be  crossed  only  by  a  watersplash 
for  vehicles,  and  a  plank  footbridge  for  pedestrians ;  but 
progress  and  the  prosperity  of  the  county  funds  have 
changed  all  that.  I  wish  they  had  not  :  it  would  be 
all  the  better  if  one  came  to  the  place  just  in  the  way 
Shakespeare  used. 

The  rustic  cottage,  still  heavily  thatched,  comes  before 
one's  gaze  with  that  complete  familiarity  which  is  the 
result  of  numberless  illustrations.     It  stands  at  right- 

104 


ANNE   HATHAWAY 

angles  to  the  road,  with  a  large  garden  in  front  of  it.  I 
would  be  enthusiastic  about  that  garden  if  I  honestly 
might,  but  truth  forbids  me  to  compete  with  the  exag- 
gerated praise  of  it  commonly  lavished  by  writers  upon 
this  scene.  It  is  just  a  pleasant  rustic  garden,  partly 
used  for  growing  beans,  cabbages,  potatoes  and  the  usual 
cottager's  produce ;  with  the  customary  borders  and  beds 
of  old-fashioned  flowers.  A  stone-paved  path  leads  up 
to  the  door.  Hundreds  of  such  gardens  beautify  the 
old  cottages  of  the  Warwickshire  villages  and  hamlets ; 
and  many  of  them,  I  declare  it,  are  very  much  better. 
The  house  itself  is  built  in  the  customary  local  manner, 
on  a  rough  blue  lias  foundation,  with  thick  walls  partly 
of  the  same  material,  here  and  there  varied  by  red  brick, 
and  framed  with  ancient  timbering.  Latticed  windows 
light  the  various  rooms.  It  is  a  building  of  rather  late 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  and  appears  to  have  been  first 
tenanted  by  the  Hathaway s  in  1556,  when  one  John  of 
that  name,  described  as  an  archer,  was  living  here. 
"  Hewlands  "  Avas  then  the  name  of  the  farm.  The 
Hathaway  family  did  not  actually  possess  it  until  1610, 
when  Bartholomew,  Anne's  eldest  brother,  purchased 
the  property. 

Anne  Hathaway  was  the  eldest  of  the  three  daughters 
of  Richard,  who  died  in  June  1582.  His  four  sons, 
Bartholomew,  Thomas,  John,  and  William,  were  pro- 
vided for,  and  the  daughters  were  left  £6  13s.  4<Z,  each, 
Anne,  or  "Agnes,"  as  she  is  described  in  the  will,  the 
names  being  in  those  times  interchangeable,  was  to 
receive  hers  on  the  day  of  her  marriage ;  her  sister 
Catherine  on  the  like  occasion  ;  and  Margaret  was  to  receive 
her  share  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  Anne  was  married 
in  a  hurry  to  William  Shakespeare  at  the  close  of 
November  in  the  same  year.  The  Shakespearean  con- 
nection with  the  cottage  at  Shottery  is  thus  not  alto- 

105 


ANNE   HATHAWAY' S   COTTAGE 

gcthcr  so  intimate  or  so  continuous  as  would  at  first  be 
suj^posed. 

The  Hathaways  would  appear  to  have  executed 
numerous  repairs  to  the  farmhouse  which  Bartholomew 
had  acquired,  and  to  this  day  we  may  see  a  stone  tablet 
let  into  one  of  the  chimneys,  bearing  the  initials  "  I  H  " 
(for  John  Hathaway)  and  the  date  1697;  while  the 
same  initials  and  date,  together  with  those  of  "EH" 
which  doubtless  stand  for  Elizabeth  Hathaway,  his  wife, 
occur  on  the  bacon-cupboard  in  the  ingle-nook  of  the 
living-room.  The  last  of  the  Hathaways  was  another 
John,  who  died  in  1746,  but  the  house  remained  in  the 
hands  of  descendants  until  1838.  At  last  it  came  into 
possession  of  one  Alderman  Thompson,  of  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  who  in  1892  sold  it  to  the  Trustees  of  Shakespeare's 
Birthplace,  for  £3000,  The  furniture  was  bought  for  a 
further  £500.  The  Alderman  is  said  to  have  made  a 
very  good  thing  out  of  it,  but  he  would  probably  have 
done  still  better  if  he  had  waited  a  few  years  longer. 
The  average  number  of  visitors,  who  pay  sixpence  each 
to  view  the  cottage,  is  40,000  a  year.  The  simjjlest 
calculation  shows  that  to  mean  an  income  of  £1000, 
and  the  ujjkeep  cannot  be  very  expensive.  But  the 
heavy  thatch  will  soon  again  have  to  be  renewed.  The 
plentiful  lack  of  understanding  ainong  many  of  the 
visitors  is  such  that  they  frequently  appear  to  think 
the  thatch  as  old  as  Shakespeare's  day.  It  must,  of 
course,  have  been  many  times  re-covered,  and  at  the 
present  time  it  is  again  in  a  dilapidated  condition, 
sodden  through  with  the  weather  of  many  years,  and 
precariously  held  together  by  wire  netting  stretched 
over  it.  A  very  garden  of  weeds  grows  there  :  shepherds' 
purse,  groundsel,  candy -tuft  and  dandelion ;  and  poppies 
wave  their  red  banners  on  the  roof-ridge. 

There  are  twelve  rooms  in  the  house,  and  of  these 

107 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

seven  are  shown.  The  showing  is  a  very  businesshke 
proceeding  nowadays.  At  the  garden  gate  you  read 
the  strict  rules  of  the  Trust,  and  then,  having  paid  your 
sixpence,  receive  a  printed  and  numbered  ticket.  A 
party  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  persons  from  Sheffield 
was  expected  on  the  last  occasion  the  present  writer 
visited  the  place,  and  exactly  how  much  mental  sus- 
tenance or  what  clear  impression  that  half-battalion  of 
excursionists  could  have  received,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say.  "  We  have  to  put  'em  through  quick,"  said 
one  in  charge.  Obviously  it  must  needs  be  so,  else 
how  would  all  see  the  house  before  day  was  done  ? 

Entering  by  a  low-browed  doorway,  a  stone-paved 
passage  opens  into  rooms  right  and  left.  On  the  left, 
down  two  steps,  is  the  living-room,  also,  like  all  these 
ground-floor  rooms,  stone-floored.  Overhead  are  old 
oaken  beams  and  joists,  and  the  rough  walls  are  partly 
panelled.  There  are  pictures  without  number  of  this 
old-world  interior,  the  most  characteristic  of  them  that 
showing  Mrs.  Baker,  who  for  many  years  received 
visitors,  sitting  by  the  fireside,  in  company  with  her 
old  family  Bible,  in  which  the  births,  marriages  and 
deaths  of  many  Hathaway s  are  recorded.  She  proved 
her  descent  from  them  by  way  of  a  niece  of  Anne 
Hathaway ;  whom,  it  is  rather  curious  to  reflect,  no  one 
ever  thinks  of  styling  by  her  married  name,  "  Mrs. 
Shakespeare."  I  cannot  help  thinking  she  would  have 
resented  it,  if  addressed  by  her  maiden  name. 

But  Mrs.  Baker,  who  lived  in  the  cottage  for  seventy 
years  and  appeared  to  be  almost  as  permanent  a  feature 
of  it  as  the  very  walls  and  roof-tree,  died  in  September 
1899,  at  the  age  of  eighty-seven.  Still,  however,  the 
photographic  view  of  the  old  lady  sitting  there  is  easily 
first  favourite  among  all  the  interior  views  of  the  cottage  ; 
and  many  are  those  visitors  who,  coming  here  and  not 

108 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

seeing  the  familiar  figure,  miss  it  as  keenly  as  they  would 
any  intimate  article  of  furniture. 

An  old  and  time-worn  wooden  settle  stands  beside  the 
ingle-nook.  One  may  still  sit  in  the  corner  seats,  but  a 
modern  grate  occupies  the  hearth  on  which  the  logs  were 
burnt  in  the  Hathaway s'  time.  Little  square  recesses 
in  the  wall  show  where  the  tinder-box  was  kept,  and 
where  those  who  sat  here  in  olden  times  set  down  their 
jug  and  glass.  The  brightly-burnished  copper  warming- 
pan  that  hangs  here,  together  with  the  bellows,  is  not,  I 
think,  credited  with  a  Hathaway  lineage.  These  once 
necessary,  but  now  obsolete,  household  articles  are 
simply  placed  here  for  the  purpose  of  giving  a  more 
convincing  air  to  this  old  home ;  but  one  suspects  that 
some  day,  when  the  critical  attitude  relaxes,  they  will 
acquire  a  kind  of  brevet  rank,  and  perhaps  eventually 
even  fully  qualify  as  genuine  heirlooms. 

The  spacious  bacon-cupboard,  where  the  flour  was 
also  stored,  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  ingle-nook,  is  a  very  fine  specimen.  The 
neighbourhood  of  Stratford  is  particularly  rich  in  these 
old  bacon-cupboards,  which  indeed  seem  to  be  almost 
a  peculiar  feature  of  the  district.  There  is  one  at 
Shakespeare's  Birthplace,  in  the  town,  and  another  at 
the  "  Windmill "  inn,  in  Church  Street,  and  numerous 
other  examples  exist  in  private  houses;  but  this  is  the 
best  specimen  I  have  yet  seen,  and  the  better  kept ; 
the  open  lattice-work  oaken  door,  bearing  the  initials 
"  I.  H.,  E.  H.,  I.  B.,  1697,"  being  well  polished.  A 
further  storage  place  for  bacon  is  the  cratch  (otherwise 
the  "  rack ")  in  the  roof-joists.  You  see  it  in  the 
accompanying  illustration. 

The  long,  broad  mantel-shelf  bears  the  usual  collection 
of  candlesticks  and  "  chimney  ornaments."  Under  a 
window  is  an  old  table,  with  the  visitors'-book,  and  on 

110 


FLINT- AND- STEEL 

the  opposite  side  of  the  room  stands  an  equally  old 
dresser,  with  a  display  of  blue  and  white  plates  and 
dishes  :  a  grandfather's  clock  between  it  and  the  door. 
Gaping  visitors  are  usually  shown,  by  partial  demonstra- 
tion, with  flint-and-steel,  how  our  long-suffering  and 
patient  ancestors  struck  a  light,  but  the  process  is  not 
deinonstrated  in  its  entirety.  To  strike  a  spark  off  a 
flint  with  a  piece  of  steel  is  an  easy  matter,  but  if  the 
whole  process  of  directing  the  sparks  upon  the  tinder 
in  the  tinder-box  and  then  blowing  the  tinder  into  a 
flame  were  gone  through,  visitors  would  be  very  much 
more  astonished  at  the  inconveniences  endured  by  our 
forbears  before  the  invention  of  matches.  To  get  a 
light  in  this  way  was  the  most  chancy  thing  in  the 
world.  The  tinder  might  possiblj^  catch  with  the  first 
spark,  or  again  it  might  take  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  I 
think  Job  must  have  taken  his  first  lessons  in  patience 
with  flint-and-steel  and  tinder  on  a  cold  winter's  morn- 
ing. We  see,  from  these  fire-raising  difiiculties,  a  reason 
why  our  ancestors  very  rarely  allowed  the  fires  on  their 
hearthstones  to  go  out.  Fuel  was  cheap  in  the  country, 
and  commonly  to  be  had  for  the  mere  gathering  of  it, 
while  if  you  let  your  fire  burn  out,  it  could  only  be  lighted 
again  at  considerable  pains.  These  seem  altogether 
tales  of  an  olden  time,  and  they  do  actually  strike  the 
visitors  to  Shottery  as  very  remote  indeed;  but  there 
are  yet  many  persons  living  to  whom  flint-and-steel  and 
the  tinder-box  were  as  matter-of-course  and  necessary 
articles  as  the  match-box  is  now. 

The  room  to  the  right  of  the  entrance-passage  is  the 
kitchen.  Here  again  is  an  ingle-nook,  and  heavy  beams 
support  the  floor  above.  A  very  tall  man  could  not 
walk  upright  in  this  room,  for  these  timbers  are  only 
about  5  ft.  11  inches  from  the  floor.  The  ancient  hearth 
remains  here,  and  the  oven  runs  deep  into  the  masonry  : 

111 


SmiMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

a  considerable  space — almost  large  enough  to  be  called 
a  room — running  round  to  the  back  of  it.  The  little 
window  seen  rather  high  up  in  the  wall  of  the  house  as 
you  enter  by  the  garden-gate  lights  this  space. 

Returning  across  the  passage  and  through  the  living- 
room,  the  dairy,  a  little  stone-flagged  room  is  seen  at 
the  back.     The  door  here,  like  most  of  the  others,  has 


ANNE    HATHAWAY  S    BEDROOM. 


the  old  English  wooden  latch  known  as  the  "  Drunkard's 
latch  "  because  its  cumbrous  woodwork  affords  so  good 
a  hold  for  fumbling  fingers. 

Upstairs,  on  the  left,  is  "  Anne  Hathaway's  bedroom," 
where  the  chief  object  is  a  beautiful,  but  decrepit  as 
to  its  lower  legs,  four-post  sixteenth-century  bedstead. 
The  legs  have  assumed  a  permanently  knock-kneed 
position,  which  humorous  visitors  affect  to  believe  was 
caused  by  the  bed  having  been  used,  something  after 
the  fashion  of  the  Great  Bed  of  Ware,  not  only  for  one 

112 


AN   OLD    BEDSTEAD 

person,  but  in  common.  It  is  indeed  a  very  large 
bedstead.  Apart  from  its  size,  it  is  certainly  the  finest 
article  of  furniture  in  the  house,  the  headboard  being 
beautifully  carved  with  grotesque  figures  in  the  Renas- 
cence style  then  in  vogue.  The  sheets  are  of  old  hand- 
spun  flax,  and  a  glass-covered  case  displayed  on  the  bed 
contains  a  pillow-case  of  fine  linen  and  beautiful  needle- 
work, traditionally  the  work  of  Anne.  The  mattresses 
of  this  bedstead  and  of  the  plainer  one  in  the  next  bed- 
room are  of  plaited  rushes.  Here  rough  bed-curtains, 
dyed  a  dull  yellow  by  a  vegetable  dye,  are  obviously  of 
great  age.  A  small  slip  room  of  no  interest  is  shown, 
opening  out  of  this  second  bedroom,  and  with  that  the 
exploration  of  the  house  is  concluded. 


113 


CHAPTER   XII 

Cliarlecote. 

To  Cliarlecote,  four  miles  east  of  Stratford,  is  an  ex- 
pedition rarely  ever  omitted  by  the  Shakespearean 
tourist,  for  it  is  associated  with  one  of  the  most  romantic 
traditions  of  the  poet's  life  ;  that  of  the  famous  poaching 
incident,  which  may  well  have  been  the  disposing  cause 
of  his  leaving  his  native  town  and  seeking  fortune  in 
London.  The  balance  of  opinion  is  strongly  in  favour 
of  accepting  the  story,  which  comes  down  to  us  by  way 
of  Archdeacon  Davis,  Vicar  of  the  Gloucestershire 
village  of  Sapperton,  who  died  in  1708.  He  says  the 
youth  "  was  much  given  to  all  unluckiness  in  stealing- 
venison  and  rabbits,  particularly  from  Sir  Thomas  Lucy, 
who  had  him  oft  whipped  and  sometimes  imprisoned, 
and  at  last  made  him  fly  his  native  county,  to  his  great 
advancement." 

This  does  not  at  first  sight  present  a  flattering  picture 
of  William  Shakespeare,  but  we  have  to  consider  that 
the  deer-  and  game-raiders  of  that  era  were  not  on  the 
blackguardly  level  of  the  modern  poacher.  They  were 
commonly  sportive  and  high-spirited  youths,  who  went 
about  the  business  of  it  in  company.  At  the  same  time, 
he  ought  at  this  juncture  to  have  given  up  this  hazardous 
sport.  The  probable  date  of  his  leaving  for  London, 
fleeing  before  the  anger  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  is  either 
the  summer  of  1585  or  1587.  He  was  in  the  former 
year  twenty-one  years  of  age,  had  already  been  two 
years  and  a  half  a  married  man,  and  was  the  father  of 

114 


THE   LITERARY  TEMPERAMENT 

three  children.  In  imagination  we  can  hear  John 
Shakespeare's  friends  prophesying  that  his  son  Will 
would  "  come  to  no  good."  The  same  ungenerous  thing 
has  no  doubt  been  prophesied  of  every  high-couraged 
lad  from  time  immemorial. 

In  revenge  for  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  reprisals  Shakespeare 
is  said  to  have  written  some  satirical  verses  and  fastened 
them  on  the  park  gates  of  Charlecote,  Some  of  the  lines 
have,  in  tradition,  survived — 

"  A  Parliament  member,  a  Justice  of  Peace, 
At  liome  a  poor  scarecrow,  in  London  an  Ass, 
If  lousy  is  Lucy,  as  some  folk  miscall  it, 
Tlien  Lucy  is  lous_v,  wliatever  befall  it. 

He  thinks  himself  great. 

Yet  an  ass  in  his  state 

We  allow  by  his  ears  with  but  asses  to  mate." 

This  has  been  styled  a  "  worthless  effusion,"  and 
attempts  have  been  made  to  pooh-pooh  it ;  but  whatever 
its  worth  or  otherwise,  it  distinctly  shows  that  sceva 
indignatio — that  unmeasured  fury  which  is  one  of  the 
stigmata  of  the  literary  temperament.  Its  extravagance 
is  no  point  against  it,  and  to  show  that  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy  was  neither  a  scarecrow  nor  an  ass  is  altogether 
beside  the  mark. 

Shakespeare,  rubbing  his  hurts,  put  all  the  hatred  he 
could  into  his  rhythmic  abuse,  and  did  not  stop  to  con- 
sider how  closely  it  tallied  with  actualities.  Now  let 
us  reconstruct  the  actual  man.  The  real  Sir  Thomas 
was  a  personage  of  wealth  inherited  unimpaired,  and 
of  undoubted  culture  and  esteem  :  in  the  words  of 
his  contemporaries  a  "  right  worshipful  knight."  He 
reigned  long  in  the  home  of  his  ancestors  at  Charlecote, 
to  which  he  succeeded  in  1552,  upon  the  death  of  his 
father.  He  was  then  only  twenty  years  of  age,  and  he 
lived  until  1602.  He  had  for  tutor  none  other  than 
John  Foxe,  the  martyrologist,  to  whom  his  father,  Sir 
I  2  115 


SUMMER  DAYS   IX    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Thomas,  had  given  shelter.  "  Foxe,  forsaken  by  his 
friends,  and  accused  of  heresy  for  professing  the  reformed 
rehgion,  was  left  naked  of  all  human  assistance ;  when 
God's  providence  began  to  show  itself,  procuring  for 
him  a  safe  refuge  in  the  house  of  the  Worshipful  Knight, 
Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  of  Charlecote  in  Warwickshire,  who 
received  him  into  his  family  as  tutor,  and  he  remained 
there  till  his  pupils  no  longer  needed  instruction." 
Foxe  was  married  here,  at  Charlecote,  in  1547. 

In  common  with  the  rich  landowners  of  his  time.  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy  was  a  patron  of  architecture  and  the  arts, 
and  in  no  way  the  inferior  of  his  contemporaries,  as  the 
beautiful  hall  of  Charlecote,  built  by  him,  sufficiently 
proves.  Six  years  after  coming  into  his  inheritance  he 
demolished  the  old  mansion  and  erected  that  we  now 
see.  The  house  of  Lucy  had  never  before  lived  in  such 
state  as  that  he  enjoyed.  In  1565  he  received  the  honour 
of  knighthood,  and  first  sat  in  Parliament  in  1571 :  in 
all  these  and  succeeding  years  filling  the  usual  local 
magisterial  offices  of  a  personage  of  his  station.  He  is 
said  to  have  entertained  Queen  Elizabeth  on  her  progress 
to  Kenil worth,  in  1572,  and  the  entrance  porch  to  the 
front  of  the  house  is  said  to  have  been  added  for  the 
occasion ;  a  tradition  that  may  well  be  true,  for  it  is  a 
more  elaborate  structure  than  the  surrounding  com- 
position. It  is  two  storeys  in  height,  and  in  stone  :  the 
frontage  in  general  being  chiefly  of  brick.  It  is  also 
obviously  an  addition,  and  is  not  exactly  central.  The 
building  of  it  converted  the  ground  plan  into  the  semb- 
lance of  a  capital  E,  which  was  the  courtly  way  among 
architects  and  their  patrons  of  paying  a  compliment  to 
Queen  Elizabeth.  Is  it  not  thus  sufficiently  clear  that 
in  the  building  of  his  new  mansion  Sir  Thomas  had 
overlooked  this  customary  compliment  and  that  he 
hurriedly  added  it,  over  against  the  Queen's  coming  ? 

116 


SIR   THOMAS   LUCY 

The  prominence  of  the  sculptnred  royal  arms  over  the 
doorway,  with  the  initials  "  E.R.,"  lend  support  to  this 
view. 

This  very  magnificient  person  might  well  "  think 
himself  great,"  for  he  was  the  most  considerable  land- 
owner in  the  district,  and  everywhere  deferred  to. 
Besides  providing  himself  with  a  stately  new  residence 
he  paid  great  attention  to  preserving  game  on  his  various 
estates,  and  is  found  in  March  1585,  about  the  time  of 
Shakespeare's  alleged  jioaching  exploit,  in  charge  of  a 
Bill  in  Parliament  for  its  better  preservation  in  the 
parks  of  England,  which  he  would  appear  to  have  con- 
sidered not  sufficiently  protected  by  the  law  of  some 
twenty-three  years  earlier,  prescribing  three  months' 
imprisonment  for  deer-stealing  and  a  fine  of  three  times 
the  damage  done. 

Here,  then,  you  have  a  portraiture  of  that  personage 
whom  Shakespeare  so  grossly  travestied.  Nor  did  that 
impudent  ballad  suffice  to  clear  the  score,  for  he  returned 
to  him  in  later  years,  and  in  the  Second  Part  of  Henry 
the  Fourth  we  find  "  Justice  Shallow  "  at  his  country 
house  in  Gloucestershire,  entertaining  Sir  John  Falstaff, 
and  bragging  of  what  a  gay  dog  and  a  wild  fellow  he 
was  in  his  young  days  in  London ;  "  every  third  word 
a  lie."  The  "  old  pike  "  was,  says  Falstaff,  "  like  a 
man  made  after  supper  with  a  cheese-paring,"  a  figure 
of  fun. 

"  Old  pike  "  gives  the  key  to  Shakespeare's  meaning, 
and  must  at  the  time  have  been  well  understood  locally 
to  refer  to  the  luces,  or  pike,  in  the  Lucy  arms ;  but, 
growing  bolder,  he  much  more  fully,  offensively,  and 
unmistakably  caricatures  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  under  the 
same  name  of  "  Justice  Shallow  "  in  the  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor.  The  play  indeed  most  prominently  opens 
with    him  represented  as  having  come  up  to  Windsor 

117 


SUlAOIER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

from  Gloucestershire  for  the  purpose  of  laying  an  in- 
formation before  the  Star  Chamber  against  Sir  John 
Falstaff  for  having  killed  his  deer — 

Shallow.  Sir  Hugli,  persuade  me  not.  I  \\\\\  make  a  Star-chamber 
matter  of  it — if  he  were  twenty  Sir  Joliii  Falstaffs,  lie  sliall  not  abuse 
Rol)ert  Shallow,  esquire. 

Slcufler.  In  the  county  of  Gloster,  justice  of  peace,  and  coram. 

Shallow.  Ay,  Cousin  Slender,  and  cust-aloruni . 

Slender.  Ay  and  rataloruni,  too  ;  and  a  gentleman  born,  master 
parson,  who  writes  himself,  ariniijcro,  in  any  bill,  warrant,  quittance^ 
or  obligation,  armigero. 

Shallow.  Ay,  that  we  do,  and  have  done  any  time  these  three  hundred 
years. 

Slender.  All  his  successors,  gone  before  him,  have  done't ;  and  all 
his  ancestors,  that  come  after  him^  may  ;  they  may  give  the  dozen 
white  luces  in  their  coat. 

Shallow.   It  is  an  old  coat. 

Evans.  The  dozen  white  louses  <lo  become  an  old  coat  well ;  it  agrees 
well,  passant ;  it  is  a  familiar  beast  to  man,  and  signifies  love. 

Another  passage  a  little  later  contains  an  allusion 
which  we  try  in  vain  to  interpret.  What  was  the  story 
of  the  keeper's  daughter  ?  There  is  more  in  this,  we 
may  say,  than  meets  the  eye.  Who  knows  how  the 
deer-stalking  may  have  been  complicated  by  some 
incident  of  a  more  tender  and  romantic  nature?  Keeper's 
daughters  are  notoriously  comely  and  buxom,  and 
imagination  may  frame  a  pretty  story  out  of  this  quaint 
disclaimer  of  Falstaffs — 

Falstaff.   How,  Master  Shallow,  you'll  complain  of  me  to  the  king  } 

Shallow.  Kniglit,  you  have  beaten  my  men,  killed  my  deer,  and 
broke  open  my  lodge. 

Falstaff.   Hut  not  kissed  your  keeper's  daughter? 

Shallow.   Tut,  a  pin  !  this  shall  be  answered. 

Falataff.  I  will  answer  it  straight. — 1  have  done  all  this. — That  is 
now  answered. 

Shallow.  The  Council  shall  know  this. 

Falstaff.  'Twere  better  for  you,  if  it  were  known  in  counsel :  you'll 
be  laughed  at. 

Falstaffs  last  remark  is  a  play  upon  the  words  "  Council," 
a  more  or  less  public  body,  and  "  counsel,"  private  talk. 

118 


THE   OLD   COAT   OF   SHALLOW 

That  is  to  say  Shallow  will  be  a  fool,  and  laughed  at 
if  he  takes  so  trivial  an  affair  before  so  weighty  a  tribunal 
as  the  Star  Chamber,  and  Avould  be  better  advised  to 
seek  his  friends'  counsel  about  the  affair. 

Perhaps  the  "  keeper's  daughter "  who  was  not 
kissed,  was,  after  all,  not  kissable,  or  perhaps  the  allusion 
really  was  an  insinuation  that  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  himself 
kissed  his  keeper's  daughter.  It  was  in  any  event 
obviously  a  gibe  perfectly  easy  of  comprehension  at  the 
time  in  Stratford  and  round  about,  and  enshrines  some 
forgotten  scandalous  gossip. 

These  are  passages  that  the  Baconians  boggle  at. 
They  cannot  be  explained  away  by  any  ingenuity,  and 
thus  form  a  convincing  stand-by  for  those  hardened  and 
unrepentant  folk  who  still  believe  that  Shakespeare 
wrote  his  own  plays.  The  play  upon  the  name  of  Lucy 
and  the  luces  in  the  family  arms  is  too  direct  to  be 
mistaken.  Master  Shallow  is  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  in 
Gloucestershire,  and  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  was  an  ornament 
of  the  Bench  both  in  that  shire  and  in  Warwickshire. 
The  "  dozen  white  louses,"  instead  of  the  three  which 
would  match  with  the  number  of  luces  in  the  Lucy  arms, 
were  no  doubt  a  variant  introduced  by  the  dramatist  in 
order  to  keep  himself  clear  of  those  very  Star  Chamber 
proceedings  with  which  Sir  John  Falstaff  was  threatened. 
One  might  not  in  those  times  defame  with  imjDunity  a 
man's  coat  of  arms. 

A  further  objection  to  the  Baconian  authorship,  if 
necessary,  is  to  be  found  in  the  extreme  unlikeliness  of 
Bacon,  who  himself  was  armigerous,  casting  such  patent 
ridicule  upon  the  heraldic  achievement  of  one  with 
whom  he  had  no  quarrel.  In  the  case  of  Shakespeare, 
the  animus  is  abundantly  evident. 

The  way  to  Charlecote  is  over  the  Clopton  Bridge  and 
to  the  left.     It  is  the  Kineton  road.     Past  Tiddington 

119 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

the  way  goes  level,  along  the  beavitiful  roads  shaded  by 
the  luxuriant  hedgerow  timber  we  expect  in  these  parts  ; 
and  presently,  when  we  have  begun  impatiently  to 
wonder  when  Charlecote  will  come  into  view,  a  lodge  and 
entrance  are  seen  on  the  left  side  of  the  highway. 

We  hear  much  of  the  passing  shows  of  this  world,  but 
we  have  often  to  marvel  at  their  permanence.  The 
kith  and  kin  of  Shakespeare  are  all  gone  long  ago,  but 


LUCY    SHIELD    OF    ARMS. 


here  at  Charlecote  are  still  Lucys.  There  have  been 
Lucys  of  Charlecote  since  1216,  and  their  "  old  coat  "  is 
still  displayed  over  this  entrance  to  the  park.  They  are 
not,  it  is  true,  of  the  old  unmixed  blood,  and  the  present 
family  own  the  name  only  by  adoption,  the  direct  line 
having  been  broken  in  1786,  when  a  second  cousin,  the 
Rev.  John  Hammond,  inherited  the  property  and 
assumed  the  name  of  Lucy.  The  present  owner  also, 
Mr.  Fairfax-Lucy,  assumed  the  name  on  marrying  one 
of  the  two  daughters  of  Mr.  Henry  Spenser  Lucy,  who 
died  in  1890. 

120 


v:r?t*^.>-^' 


•|J^^ 


^ 


THE    'TUMBLE-DOWN   STILE' 

There  are  but  three  kices,  or  pikes,  in  the  old  coat  of 
the  Charlecote  Lucys.  They  are  displayed,  in  herald's 
language,  thus  :  "  gules,  seinee  of  crosses  crosslet,  three 
luces  hauriant  argent;  "  that  is  to  say,  on  a  red  ground 
sown  with  silver  crosses -crosslet,  three  silver  pike  in  an 
upright  position,  rising  to  take  breath.  The  family 
motto  is  "  By  truth  and  diligence."  On  old  deeds 
sealed  with  the  Lucy  seal  the  three  pike  are  shown 
intertwined. 

The  park,  well-wooded,  but  only  about  250  acres 
in  extent,  presents  a  fine  picture  viewed  from  these 
gates,  but  the  mansion  is  not  seen ;  the  chief  approach 
being  a  considerable  distance  along  the  main  road,  and 
thence  along  a  public  by-road  to  the  village  of  Charle- 
cote. Crossing  a  bridge  over  the  Wellesbourne  stream 
which  joins  the  Avon  in  the  park,  the  locally  celebrated 
"  Tumble-down  Stile  "  is  immediately  on  the  right 
hand.  This  is  a  wooden  fence  not  by  its  appearance 
to  be  distinguished  above  any  other  fence  of  wood,  but 
so  contrived  that  the  stranger  unversed  in  its  trick,  and 
seeking  to  climb  over  it  to  the  footpath  beyond,  suddenly 
finds  one  end  collapsing  and  himself  most  likely  on 
the  ground.  This  contrivance,  generally  understood  to 
have  been  a  freak  of  the  late  Mr.  Henry  Spenser  Lucy, 
keeps  the  village  of  Charlecote  supplied  with  a  stock 
of  elementary  humour  all  the  year  round,  and  is 
invariably  pointed  out  by  fly-men  driving  visitors  from 
Stratford.  Not  every  one  who  comes  to  Shakespeare  Land 
comes  with  the  capacity  for  fully  understanding  and 
being  interested  in  its  literary  and  historic  features,  but 
all  have  the  comprehension  of  this  within  their  reach. 

There,  on  the  left,  stretches  the  woodland  park, 
entered  either  by  a  rough  five -barred  rustic  gate,  or 
by  the  imposing  modern  ornamental  gates  flanked  by 
clumsy  sculptured  effigies  of    boars    squatting  on  their 

121 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

nimps.  Entering  by  the  unpretending  gate  first  named, 
one  comes  beneath  the  trees  of  a  noble  avenue  to  the 
beautiful  gatehouse  standing  in  advance  of  the  hall  and 
giving  admission  to  a  courtyard  filled  with  the  geometrical 
patterns  of  a  formal  garden.  The  wild  verdure  of  the 
park  reigns  here,  outside  that  enclosure,  and  trim 
neatness  forms  the  note  within ;  a  contrast  greatly 
loved  in  those  times  when  Charlecotc  was  planned.  It 
was  to  the  planning  of  country  mansions  exactly  what 
the  antithetic  manner  is  to  literature  :  both  give  the 
spice  of  sharp  contrast. 

There  are  to  this  day  deer  couching  in  the  bracken  of 
the  park,  and  they  come  picturesquely  up  to  the  gate- 
house and  peer  within.  There  are  also  strange  piebald 
sheep,  with  long  fat  tails,  very  curious  to  look  upon. 
I  do  not  know  what  breed  they  are,  or  whence  they 
come,  for  the  reply  received  to  an  inquiry  elicited  this 
strange  answer  from  a  typical  Warwickshire  boy: 
"  Thaay  be  Spanish  sheep  from  Scotland."  Possibly 
some  of  those  who  read  these  pages  may  recognise  the 
kind ;  but  if  they  came  from  Spain  to  Charlecote  by 
way  of  Scotland  they  must  have  been  brought  somewhat 
out  of  their  way. 

The  gatehouse,  so  strikingly  set  in  advance  of  the 
mansion,  is  the  most  truly  picturesque  feature.  Its 
red  brick  and  stone  have  not  been  restored,  and  wear 
all  those  signs  of  age  which  have  been  largely  smoothed 
out  and  obliterated  from  the  residence.  Charlecote  is 
not  what  is  known  as  a  "  show  house."  It  is  not  one 
of  those  stately  mansions  which  are  open  to  be  viewed 
at  stated  times ;  and  strangers  are  admitted  only 
occasionally  and  by  special  grace.  Long  bygone 
generations  of  Lucys  hang  in  portraitures  by  famous 
masters  upon  the  walls  of  the  great  hall,  the  library, 
and  the  drawing-room ;  and  the  library  contains  a  copy 

122 


CHARLECOTE   CHURCH 

of  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  published  in  1619;  an 
edition  which  does  not  contain  the  opening  scene  with 
Mr.  Justice  Shallow. 

Charlecote  church  was  entirely  rebuilt  in  1852. 
Surviving  views  of  the  former  church  prove  it  to  have 
been  a  small,  mean  building,  unworthy  of  housing  the 


THE    GATEHOUSE,    CHARLECOTE. 

fine  tombs  of  the  Lucys ;  and  so  we  need  not  regret  the 
rebuilding,  except  to  be  sorry  it  was  not  deferred  a 
few  years  longer,  until  the  efflorescent  would-be  Gothic 
of  that  period  had  abated.  You  who  gaze  upon  the 
exterior  of  Charlecote  can  have  not  the  least  doubt  about 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  designer,  who  seems  to  have  been 
even  more  Gothic  than  the  architects  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
It  is  a  small  church  he  has  designed,  but  the  exterior  is 
overloaded  with  ornament ;  and  if  the  building  be  indeed 

123 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

small,  the  gargoyles  are  big  enough  for  a  cathedral, 
while  the  interor  has  a  niiich-more-than  Middle  Ages 
obscurity.  It  is  a  church  of  nave  without  aisles,  and  the 
nave  has  the  unusual  feature  of  being  vaulted  in  stone. 
It  is  dark  even  on  a  summer  day.  The  architect  was  also 
the  designer  of  Bodelwyddan  church,  in  North  Wales. 

North  of  the  chancel,  in  a  very  twilight  chapel,  are 
the  three  ornate  tombs  of  the  Lucys.  The  first  of  these 
is  of  that  Sir  Thomas  who  was  Shakespeare's  "  Justice 
Shallow."  It  is  on  the  right  hand.  He  lies  there,  in 
armoured  effigy,  beside  his  wife  Joyce,  who  predeceased 
him  in  1595.  He  survived  until  1600.  His  bearded 
face  has  good  features,  and  he  certainly  does  not  in  any 
way  look  the  part  of  Shallow.  Nor  does  the  noble 
tribute  to  his  wife,  inscribed  above  the  monument, 
proclaim  him  other  than  a  noble  and  modest  knight — 

Here  entombed  lyetli  the  Lady  Joyce  Liicy^  wife  of  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy,  of  Cliarlecote,  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  knight,  daughter  and 
heir  of  Thomas  Acton,  of  Sutton,  in  the  county  of  Worcester,  Esquire, 
who  departed  out  of  this  wretched  workl  to  lier  Heavenly  Kingdom  the 
10th  day  of  February,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  God,  1595,  of  her  age  Ix. 
and  iii.  All  tlie  time  of  lier  lyfe,  a  true  and  faithful  servant  of  her  goo<l 
God  ;  never  detected  in  any  crime  or  vice  ;  in  religion  most  sound  ;  in 
love  toiler  husband  most  faitliful  and  true  ;  in  friendship  most  constant. 
To  what  was  in  trust  committed  to  her  most  secret.  In  wisdom  excel- 
ling ;  in  governing  of  her  house,  and  bringing  up  of  youth  in  the  fear 
of  God,  that  did  converse  with  her  most  rare  and  singular ;  greatly 
esteemed  of  her  betters  ;  misliked  of  none  unless  the  envious.  ^VHien 
all  is  spoken  that  can  be  said  ;  a  woman  so  furnished  and  garnished 
with  Virtue  as  not  to  be  bettered,  and  hardly  to  be  equalled  by  any  ; 
as  she  lived  most  virtuously,  so  she  dyed  most  godly.  Set  down  by 
liim  that  best  did  know  what  hath  been  written  to  be  true. 

Thomas  Lucy. 

In  front  of  the  monument  are  little  kneeling  effigies  of 
Thomas  and  Anne,  the  only  son  and  daughter  of  this 
pair.  On  the  left  is  the  much  more  elaborate  monu- 
ment of  Sir  Thomas  the  Second,  who  died,  aged  fifty -four, 
in  1605,  only  five  ^^ears  later  than  his  father.  It  is  a 
gorgeous  Renaissance  affair  of  coloured  marbles.     This 

124 


TOMBS   OF  THE   LUCYS 


Sir  Thomas  lies  in  effigy  alone,  his  first  wife  having  no 
part  or  lot  in  the  monument;  the  black-vestured  and 
black-hooded  kneeling  effigy  of  Constance,  his  second, 
mounting  guard  in  front  in  a  very  determined  fashion. 
Her  back  is  towards  you  in  entering  the  chapel,  and  a 
very  startling  creature  she  is.     An  amazing  line  of  little 


smf^  >(i'  li  W  ' 


CHARLEGOTE. 


effigies  of  their  children,  each  represented  kneeling  on 
his  or  her  little  hassock,  decorates  the  front  of  the 
monument.  There  are  six  sons  and  eight  daughters, 
earnestly  praying. 

The  third  and  last  tomb  is  that  of  yet  another  Sir 
Thomas,  third  son  and  successor  of  the  last  named. 
He  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse  in  1640.  He  is 
sculptured  beautifully  in  white  marble,  and  is  represented 
reclining  on  his  elbow.     He  bears  a  strong  resemblance 

125 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

to  Charles  the  First.  Beneath  is  the  equally  fine  effigy 
of  his  wife  Alice — a  lovely  work.  She  is  wearing  a  chain 
like  that  of  an  Order,  with  a  very  large  and  prominent 
locket,  or  badge,  about  the  size  of  an  egg,  which  is, 
however,  quite  plain.  The  significance  of  it  has  been 
wholly  lost.  On  either  side  of  Sir  Thomas  are  panels 
sculptured  in  relief :  on  the  left  a  representation  of  him 
galloping  on  horseback,  and  on  the  right  shelves  of 
classic  authors,  possibly  to  indicate  that  he  was  a  man 
of  culture  and  refinement.  This  beautiful  monument 
was  executed  in  Rome,  by  Bernini,  to  the  order  of  Lady 
Lucy,  at  a  cost  of  1500  guineas. 

The  exterior  of  this  modern  church  is  rapidly  weather- 
ing, and  the  over-rich  carving  of  it  is  being  rigorously 
searched  by  rains,  frosts  and  thaws.  It  will  be  better 
for  sloughing  off  these  florid  adornments. 


126 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Shakespeare  tlie  countryman. 

We  have  abundant  evidence  of  Shakespeare  the  country- 
man in  his  works,  and  of  the  Warwickshire  man  some 
evidences,  too.  In  the  splendid  speech  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  in  Henry  the  Fifth,  he  makes  the  Frenchman 
talk  with  an  appreciation  of  agricultural  disaster  which 
only  an  English  farmer,  and  aWarwickshire  or  Gloucester- 
shire farmer,  too,  could  show.  In  the  miseries  of  France, 
worsted  by  war,  the  Duke  speaks  thus — 

"Her  vine,  the  merry  clieerer  of  the  heart, 
Unprunud  dies  :   her  hedg'es  even-pleach'd, 
Like  prisoners  vvihlly  overj^-rown  with  hair. 
Put  forth  disorder'd  twigs  :   lier  fellow  leas 
The  darnel,  hemlock,  and  rank  fumitory, 
Doth  root  upon  ;   while  that  the  coulter  rusts 
That  should  deracinate  such  savagery  : 
The  even  mead,  that  erst  brought  sweetly  fortli 
The  freckled  cowslij),  burnet,  and  green  clover. 
Wanting  the  scythe,  all  uncorrected,  rank. 
Conceives  by  idleness  ;   and  nothing  teems 
But  hateful  docks,  rough  thistles,  kecksies,  burs. 
Losing  both  beauty  and  utility." 

Bacon  would  not  have  made  a  Frenchman  speak  with 
so  English  a  tongue,  in  the  way  of  the  Midlands,  nor 
could  he  if  he  would,  for  he  knew  no  more  than  the 
real  Burgundy  could  have  known,  those  details  of  agri- 
cultural life ;  and  he  certainly  could  not  have  identified 
a  "  kecksie,"  or  a  "  keck,"  as  the  Warwickshire  children 
still  call  the  hemlock,  of  whose  dried  stems  they  make 
whistles. 

127 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

"  Easy  it  is  of  a  cut  loaf  to  steal  a  shive,  we  know," 
says  Demetrius,  in  Titus  Andronicus.  That  ancient 
Roman  is  made  to  talk  like  any  Warwickshire  agricultural 
labourer  who  takes  his  lunch  in  the  hedgerow,  off  a 
"  shive  o'  bread,  a  bit  o'  cheese  or  baacon  and  a  drap 
o'  summat ;  maybe  a  tot  o'  cider  or  maybe  a  mug  of  ale." 
After  which  he  will  "  shog  off"  to  work  again;  using 
in  that  local  word  "  shog  "  the  expression  Shakespeare 
places  in  the  mouth  of  Nym,  in  Henry  the  Fifth.  At  the 
close  of  the  day  he  will  be  "  fore  wearied,"  as  King  John 
describes  himself. 

In  his  plays  Shakespeare  follows  the  year  all  round 
the  calendar  and  touches  every  season  M'ith  magic. 
You  feel  convinced,  from  the  sympathy,  the  joyousness, 
and  the  intimate  touches,  of  his  country  scenes  that 
he  was  a  rustic  at  heart,  and  that  he  must  have  longed, 
during  those  many  years  when  he  was  winning  success 
in  London,  to  return  not  only  to  his  native  place — to 
which  the  heart  of  every  one  turns  fondly — but  to 
the  meadows,  the  cornfields,  the  hills  and  dales  and 
the  wild  flowers  around  the  town  of  Stratford-on-Avon. 
There  again,  when  spring  was  come,  to  hear  "the  sweet 
bird's  note,"  whether  it  were  "  the  throstle  with  his 
note  so  true,"  "  the  ousel  cock  so  black  of  hue,  with 
orange  tawny  bill,"  "  the  wren  with  little  quill;  " 

"The  fiucli,  the  sparrow,  and  the  lark. 
The  plain-song  cuckoo  gray^" 

or  better  still  the  mad  joyous  outbursts  of  the 
skylarks'  songs  ("  And  merry  larks  are  ploughmen's 
clocks  ")  in  those  wide  horizons  in  May  :  these,  you  are 
certain,  were  Shakespeare's  ideals. 

Of  all  the  seasons,  although  he  writes  sympathetically 
of  every  one,  Shakespeare  best  loved  the  spring.  He 
is  not  exceptional  in  that,  for  it  is  the  season  of  hope 

128 


SHAKESPEARE   AND    SPRING 

and  promise,  when  the  risen  sap  in  the  trees  makes  the 
leaves  unfold  and  the  buds  unsheath  their  beauties, 
when  beasts  and  birds  respond  to  the  climatic  change 
and  hibernating  small  creatures  and  insects  awake  from 
their  long  sleep ;  and  no  less  than  the  trees  and  plants, 
the  animals  and  insects,  all  mankind  finds  a  renewal 
of  life. 

"It  was  a  lover  and  liis  lass, 

With  a  hey  and  a  lio,  and  a  hey  nonino^ 
That  o'er  the  green  cornfield  did  pass 

In  the  spring-time,  tlie  only  merry  ring-time, 
AVhen  birds  do  sing,  hey  ding-a-ding  ding. 
Sweet  lovers  love  the  spring." 

Thus  the  pages  sung  in  the  Forest  of  Ai-den;  and 
Shakespeare,  be  sure,  put  something  of  himself  into  the 
character  of  Autolycus  the  pedlar,  who  after  all  was  a 
man  of  better  observation,  judging  by  his  song,  than 
rogues  of  his  sort  commonly  be — 

"  When  daffodils  begin  to  peer, — 

With  hey  !  the  doxy  over  the  dale, — 
Why,  then  comes  in  the  sweet  o'  the  year  ; 
For  tlie  red  blood  reigns  in  the  winter's  pale. 

The  white  sheet  bleacliing  on  the  hedge, — 

AV^ith  hey  !  the  sweet  birds,  O  how  they  sing  ! — 

Doth  set  my  pugging  tooth  on  edge  ; 
For  a  quart  of  ale  is  a  dish  for  a  king. 

The  lark  that  tirra-lirra  cliants, — 

With  hey!  with  hey!  the  thrush  and  the  jay: — 
Are  summer  songs  for  me  and  my  aunts, 

While  we  lie  tumbling  in  the  hay." 

Shakespeare,  we  like  to  think,  had  the  tenderest  feeling 
for  those  same  daffodils  with  which  Autolycus  begins  his 
song ;  for  in  lines  that  are  among  the  most  beautiful 
he  ever  wi'ote,  he  makes  Perdita  speak  of — 

"  Daffodils, 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty.' 

K  129 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Here  we  find,  not  for  once  only,  Shakespeare  and  that 
other  sweet  singer,  Herrick,  curiously  in  sympathy — 

"  Sweet  daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 
You  haste  away  so  soon." 

He  does  not  care  so  ardently  for  the  rose,  although 
he  seems,  rather  indifferently  it  is  true,  to  admit  that  it 
is  the  queen  of  flowers.  But  it  delays  until  summer  is 
upon  us.     It  does  not  dare  with  the  daffodil. 

He  returns  again  and  again  to  the  more  idyllic  simple 
flowers  of  nature  that  the  gardener  takes  no  account  of. 
He  paints  the  cowslips  in  a  few  words  of  close  observa- 
tion.    They  are  Queen  Mab's  pensioners — 

"The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be; 
In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  see  ; 
Those  be  rubies,  fairy  favours. 
In  those  freckles  live  their  savours." 

And  in  every  cowslip's  ear  the  fairy  hangs  a  pearl,  from 
her  harvest  of  dew-drops. 

Shakespeare's  Warwickshire  was  rich — and  it  is  so 
still,  although  it  is  a  very  much  more  enclosed  country- 
side than  in  his  day — in  wild-flowers ;  the  gillyflower, 
the  wallflower  that  loves  the  nooks  and  crannies  of  ruined 
walls  as  much  as  does  the  jackdaw ;  the  candy-tuft,  the 
foxglove  that  still  stands  like  a  tall  floral  sentinel  in  many 
a  hedgerow  around   Snitterfield ;    with  many   another. 

"  Here's  flowers  for  you  ; 
Hot  lavender,  mints,  savory,  marjoram. 
The  marigold,  that  goes  to  bed  with  the  sun." 

The  "  flowers,"  however,  mentioned  in  that  quotation 
are,  with  one  exception,  herbs.  Such  as  they  grace 
and  make  fragrant  the  old  gardens  of  many  a  cottage 
the  casual  tourist  never  sees.  There  they  have  grown 
for  generations,  in  great  clumps  and  beds ;  not  in  meagre 
and  formal  patches,  as  in  some  "  Shakespearean  gardens" 

130 


OLD-FASHIONED    FLOWERS 

that  could  be  named.  In  the  byways,  in  short,  where 
thmgs  are  not  consciously  on  show,  everything  is, 
paradoxically  enough,  better  worth  seeing.  There  the 
homely  virtues  of  the  people  are  better  displayed ;  the 
flowers  are  brighter  and  their  scent  sweeter ;  and  there 
the  sun  is  more  mellow.  In  the  byways  old  mossy 
walls  still  stand,  russet  brown  and  sere  in  drought, 
as  though  the  moss  were  a  dead  thing,  but  green  again 
so  soon  as  ever  the  rain  comes ;  and  old  roofs  bear  the 
fleshy  house-leek  in  great  patches,  as  though  they  had 
burst  into  some  strange  vegetable  elephantiasis.  That  is 
Warwickshire  as  it  is  off  the  beaten  track,  yonder,  at 
the  horizon,  where  the  sky  meets  the  earth  :  a  vague 
direction,  I  fancy,  but  sufficient.  We  must  not  divulge 
all  things. 

The  ragged-robbin  that  blooms  later  in  every  hedge ; 
the  "  crow-flower  "  as  Shakespeare  names  it;  the  "  long- 
purple,"  otherwise  the  wild  arum;  pansies — "  that's  for 
thoughts  " — some  call  them  "  love-in-idleness  "  ;  all 
figure  in  Hamlet,  where  you  find  a  good  deal  of  old 
country  folklore  in  Ophelia's  talk.  "  Rosemary,  that's 
for  remembrance";  fennel  and  columbines:  "there's 
rue  for  you ;  and  here's  some  for  me ;  we  may  call  it 
herb  of  grace  o'  Sundays  ; — you  may  wear  your  rue  with 
a  difference." 

There  is  sometimes  an  almost  farmer-like  practical 
philosophy  underlying  his  observation,  as  where  Biron 
says,  in  Love's  Labour^ s  Lost :  "  Allons  allons  !  sow'd 
cockle  reap'd  no  corn  " ;  and  in  King  Lear,  in  the  refer- 
ence to — 

"  Darnel^  and  all  the  idle  weeds  that  grow 
In  our  sustaining  corn." 

The  corn-cockle  is  of  course  better  known  as  the  "  corn- 
flower," whose  beautiful  blue  is  so  contrasting  a  colour 
K  2  131 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

with  the  scarlet  of  the  poppies,  that  equally  fail  to  win 
the  farmer's  admiration. 

But  the  greater  the  study  we  give  to  Shakespeare  and 
his  treatinent  of  flowers,  the  more  evident  it  becomes 
that  his  sympathies  were  all  with  the  earlier,  spring- 
time blossoms  that  dare,  not  quite  with  the  daffodils, 
but  soon  after  the  roaring  ides  of  March  are  overpast. 
Thus,  he  makes  Perdita  resume,  with — 

"  Violets  dim. 
But  sweeter  tliau  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes 
Or  Cj'tlierea's  breatli  ;  pale  primroses 
That  die  unmarried  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phcebus  in  his  strength." 

The  "  daisies  pied,"  the  "  lady-smocks  all  silver-white," 
that  is  to  say,  the  white  arabis  which  the  Warwickshire 
children  of  to-day  call  "  smell-smocks,"  and  the  "  cuckoo 
buds  of  yellow  hue,"  otherwise  the  buttercups,  out  of 
which  the  cuckoo  is  in  old  folklore  supposed  to  drink, 
he  tells  us,  all  "  paint  the  meadows  with  delight."  He 
could  never  have  written  those  lines  with  care  and 
thought  and  in  cold  blood  :  he  must  have  seen  those 
meadows  with  all  the  delight  he  expresses,  and  the 
words  themselves  must  needs  have  been  penned  with 
enthusiasm.  This  is  a  thesis  easily  susceptible  of  proof. 
The  lovely  cuckoo-song  at  the  close  of  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  which  with  a  charm  unmatched  tells  us  of  those 
flower -spangled  meads,  has  no  bearing  upon  the  action 
of  the  play :  it  is  written  in  sheer  enjoyment,  and  it  is 
in  the  same  spirit  that  his  other  allusions  to  the  fields 
and  hedgerows  and  woodlands,  the  "  bosky  acres  "  and 
the  "  unshrubbed  down,"  are  conceived.  Ariel,  that 
tricksy  sprite  of  The  Temyest,  is  a  true  countryman's 
fancy,  as  clearly  to  be  seen  in  the  lines — 

''Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I, 
In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie  ; 
There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry, 
On  the  bat's  back  I  do  fly." 
132 


THE  DINGLES 

Here,  as  often  elsewhere,  the  dramatist  and  the  poet 
are  at  odds.  Shakespeare  the  actor-play \vi'ight,  with 
every  necessity  of  the  stage — its  entrances  and  exits, 
and  the  imperative  need  for  the  action  of  the  play  to 
be  maintained — halts  the  story  so  that  the  other  Shake- 
speare, the  idyllic  poet,  the  lover  of  nature,  shall  picture 
some  scene  for  which  he  cares  everything,  but  which 
to  the  Greeks — for  Greeks  here  read  the  London  play- 
goers of  his  time — must  have  meant  foolishness. 

Such  an  instance,  among  many,  is  Oberon's  speech 
to  Puck,  in  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream — 

"I  know  a  bank  whereon  the  wihl  thyme  blows, 
^V^here  ox-lips  and  the  nodding  violet  grows  ; 
Quite  over-canopied  with  lush  woodbine, 
With  sweet  musk-roses,  and  with  eglantine  : 
There  sleeps  Titania." 

For  these  lines  and  such  as  these  Shakespeare  risked 
the  brickbats,  the  cat-calls  and  the  obloquy  that  awaited 
the  dramatist  whose  action  dragged.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  them — except  that  of  their  beauty,  and 
that  to  the  groundlings  was  less  than  nothing. 

That  bank  whereon  the  wild-thyme  grew  must  have 
been,  I  like  to  think,  somewhere  in  The  Dingles,  a 
curious  spot  just  north-east  of  Stratford,  to  the  left  of 
the  Warwick  road,  as  you  go  up  to  Welcombe.  I  think 
there  are  no  "  dingles  "  anywhere  nearer  London  than 
the  midlands ;  none  in  name,  although  there  may  be 
many  in  fact.  By  a  "  dingle  "  in  the  midlands  a  deep 
narrow  vale,  or  natural  gully  is  meant.  The  word  is 
especially  well  known  in  Shropshire  and  the  Welsh 
borders,  where  such  features,  between  the  enfolding 
hills,  are  plentiful.  Here  The  Dingles  are  abrupt  and 
deeply  winding  gullies,  breaking  away  from  the  red 
earth  of  the  Welcombe  uplands  :  a  very  tumbled  and 
unspoiled   spot.     Elms   look  down   from   the    crest   of 

133 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

them,  and  ancient  thorn-trees  line  their  sides.  It 
seems  quite  a  sure  and  certain  thing  that  Shakespeare 
when  a  boy  knew  this  spot  well  and  frequented  it  with 
the  other  Stratford  boys  of  his  age ;  catching,  perhaps 
the  "  earth-delving  conies,"  and  I  am  afraid — for  all 
boys  are  cruel  except  those  in  the  Sunday-school  books, 
and  they  are  creatures  in  the  nature  of  sucking  Galahads 
imagined  by  maiden  aunts — I  am  afraid,  I  say,  also 
birds '-nesting. 

The  Dingles,  doubtless,  formed  in  Shakespeare's  mind 
the  site  of  Titania's  bower.  Perhaps  you  may  find  it 
yourself,  if  you  seek  there,  somewhere  about  midsummer 
midnight,  in  the  full  of  the  moon,  when  possibly  her 
obedient  fairies  will  be  as  kind  and  courteous  as  of  old 
to  that  gentleman  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  discover 
the  magic  spot,  and  may — 

"  Hop  in  his  walks,  and  gaml)ol  in  liis  eyes  ; 
Feed  liim  witli  apricocks  and  dewVjerries, 
AFith  jjurple  grapes,  green  iigs^  and  mulberries." 

If  these  adventures  do  befall  you,  tell  no  one ;  for  you 
will  not  find  belief,  even  in  this  same  Shakespeare  land. 

It  is,  however,  much  more  likely  that  your  walk  will 
be  solitary,  and  that  for  the  apricots  and  grapes  you 
will  have  to  wait  until  you  have  returned  to  your  hotel 
in  the  town. 

The  last  two  years  of  Shakespeare's  life  were  concerned 
with  a  heated  local  question  :  none  other  than  that  of 
the  proposed  enclosure  of  the  Welcombe  common  fields, 
including  The  Dingles,  by  William  Combe  who  had  by 
the  death  of  his  father  become  squire  of  Welcombe 
and  had  at  once  entered  into  an  agreement  with  the 
lord  of  the  manor  and  other  landholders  to  enclose  the 
land.  The  corporation  and  townsfolk  of  Stratford  were 
bitterly  opposed  to  this  encroachment.  Shakespeare's 
interest  in  the  matter  appears  to  have  been  only  that 

134 


THE   LAND-GRABBERS 

of  an  owner  of  tithes  in  these  fields,  and  his  sympathies 
were  clearly  against  any  such  extension  of  private 
rights.  An  entry  under  date  of  September  1615  among 
others  in  the  still-existing  manuscript  diary  of  Thomas 
Greene,  then  clerk  to  the  corporation,  who  calls  Shake- 
speare his  cousin,  is  to  the  effect  that  Shakespeare  told 
J.  Greene  (brother  of  the  town  clerk)  that  he — Shake- 
speare— "  was  not  able  to  bear  the  enclosing  of  Wel- 
combe."  The  ambiguous  and  ungrammatical  wording 
of  Greene's  diary  often  renders  his  meaning  obscure 
and  has  caused  a  great  conflict  of  opinion  about  Shake- 
speare's attitude  in  this  affair,  some  reading  it  as  in 
favour  of  the  enclosure.  It  really  appears  to  have 
been  one  of  benevolent  neutrality,  and  could  scarcely 
have  been  otherwise.  He  himself  was  a  neighbouring 
landowner,  and  friendly  with  others,  but  sentimentally, 
he  looked  with  aversion  upon  those  proposed  doings. 
He  "  was  not  able  to  bear  "  the  enclosure  of  the  place 
he  had  roamed  when  a  boy,  but  that  did  not  give  him 
the  right  to  intervene  at  law.  The  corporation  went  to 
law  with  Combe  and  his  fellows  and  won  their  case, 
but  by  that  time  Shakespeare  had  passed  from  these 
transient  scenes.  To  this  day  The  Dingles  is  common 
land. 


135 


CHAPTER   XIV 

The  'Eight  Villages' — 'Piping'  Pebworth  and  'Dancing'  Marston. 

No  one  who  has  ever  sojourned  in  Shakespeare  land  can 
remain  in  ignorance  of  what  are  the  "  Eight  Villages." 
The  older  rhymes  upon  them  are  printed  upon  picture- 
postcards,  and  on  fancy  chinaware,  and  reprinted  in 
every  local  guide-book;  and  now  I  propose  to  repeat 
them,  not  only  for  their  own  sake  and  for  the 
alleged  Shakespearean  authorship,  but  because  the 
pilgrimage  of  those  villages  offers  many  points  of 
interest.  One  need  offer  no  excuse  for  this  descriptive 
chapter,  because  although  the  rhymes  themselves  are 
trite,  the  places  are  by  no  means  so  well  known;  your 
average  Shakespeare  Country  tourist  being  rarely  so 
enterprising  as  he  is  commonly — and  quite  erroneously — 
supposed  to  be.  Stratford-on-Avon,  Evesham,  Warwick, 
Kenilworth  and  Coventry,  with  their  comfortable  hotels, 
furnish  forth  the  average  pilgrim.  But  if  you  are  to 
know  Shakespeare  land  intimately,  and  if  you  would 
come  into  near  touch  with  the  poet  and  know  him  at 
closest  quarters,  you  must  linger  in  the  villages  that  in 
every  circumstance  of  picturesqueness  are  dotted  about 
the  valley  of  the  Avon.  There,  as  freshly  as  ever,  when 
spring  has  not  waned  too  far  into  sunnner,  the 

'•'  Daisies  pied  and  violets  blue, 

And  ladysmocks  all  silver-white, 
And  cuckoo-buds  of  yellow  hue, 

Do  paint  the  meadows  with  delight." 

"  Shakespeare    is    Bacon,"    dogmatically    asserts    the 

136 


THE   TOPERS   AND   THE   SIPPERS 

ancient  hyphenated  baronet  who  in  these  latter  days 
posts  pamphlets  broadcast  (incidentally  favouring  me 
with  one,  uninvited)  seeking  to  dethrone  our  sovereign 
bard.  Well,  let  who  will  cherish  the  impious  opinion ; 
but  all  the  countryside  around  Stratford  disproves  it; 
the  trees,  the  fields,  the  wild  flowers,  the  rustic  talk, 
which  Bacon  could  never  have  known,  that  are  all 
faithfully  mirrored  in  the  plays. 

But  let  us  to  the  Eight  Villages,  whose  fame  rests 
upon  a  legend  of  olden  drinking-bouts  and  of  competi- 
tions between  different  towns  and  villages,  to  decide 
whose  men  could  drink  the  most  liquor.  In  Shake- 
speare's time,  it  seems,  Bidford  held  the  championship  of 
all  this  countryside,  and  had  two  valiant  coteries  of 
tipplers  who  drank  not  only  for  their  own  personal 
gratification,  but  went  beyond  that  and  inconvenienced 
themselves  for  the  honour  and  glory  of  their  native 
place.  Further  than  this,  local  patriotism  cannot  go. 
So  famous  were  the  doings  of  the  Topers  and  the  Sip- 
pers  of  this  spot  that  it  became  familiarly  known  as 
"Drunken"  Bidford;  an  unfortunate  adjective,  for  it 
was  bestowed  not  by  any  means  because  those  convivial 
clubmen  could  not  carry  their  liquor  like  men,  but  was 
intended  as  a  direct  tribute  of  admiration  to  their 
capacity  for  it.  In  short,  such  was  their  prowess  that 
they  went  forth,  conquering  and  to  conquer,  in  all  the 
surrounding  villages.  On  an  historic  occasion  the  daring 
fellows  of  Stratford  went  forth  and  challenged  the 
Bidford  inen  on  their  own  ground,  Shakespeare  tradition- 
ally among  them.  The  Topers  were  not  at  home ;  they 
had  gone  to  drink  Evesham  dry ;  but  the  Sippers  held 
the  fort  and  duly  maintained  the  honour  of  Bidford.  At 
the  "  Falcon  "  inn  the  contest  was  waged,  and  the 
Stratford  inen  were  ignominiously  worsted,  drawing  off 
from  the  stricken  field  while  yet  there  remained  some 

137 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

with  full  command  of  their  legs,  and  ability  to  carry  away 
those  of  their  number  who  had  wholly  succumbed.  In 
this  sort  they  went  the  homeward  way  towards  Strat- 
ford, which  is  more  than  six  miles  distant,  but  they  had 
proceeded  no  further  than  three-quarters  of  a  mile  when 
they  sank  down  by  the  roadside  and  slept  there  the 
night,  under  a  large  crab-apple  tree.  When  morning 
dawned — when  night's  candles  were  burned  out  and 
jocund  day  stood  tiptoe  on  the  meadows — they  arose 
refreshed,  the  majority  eager  to  return  to  Bidford  and 
try  another  bout;  but  Shakespeare  refused.  He  had 
had  enough  of  it.     He  had  drunk  with — 

"  Vi\ni\g  Pebwortli^  Dancing  Marston, 
Haunted  Hillboronfjli,  Hungry  Grafton, 
Dodging-  Exhall,  Papist  Wixford, 
Beggarly  Broom,  and  Drunken  Bidford." 

Such  is  the  legend.  There  are  those  who  believe  it, 
and  there  are  again  those  who  do  not.  The  quatrain 
does  not  seem  to  fit  in  with  the  story,  and  indeed  bears 
evidence  of  being  one  of  those  injurious  rhymes  respect- 
ing neighbouring  and  rival  villages  fairly  common 
throughout  England,  often  reflecting  severely,  not  only 
upon  the  characteristics  of  those  places,  but  also  upon 
the  moral  character  of  their  inhabitants.  Indeed,  the 
present  rhymes  are  mildness  itself  compared  with  some, 
with  which  these  pure  pages  shall  not  be  sullied.  But 
although  we  may  not  place  much  faith  in  the  Shake- 
spearean ascription,  those  go,  surely,  too  far  who  refuse 
to  believe  Shakespeare  capable  of  taking  part  in  one 
of  these  old-time  drinking-bouts.  Shakespeare,  we  are 
nowadays  told,  could  not  have  descended  to  such 
conduct ;  but  in  holding  such  a  view  we  judge  the  poet 
and  the  times  in  which  he  lived  by  the  standards  of  our 
own  age  ;  a  very  gross  fallacy  indeed.  It  is  not,  nowa- 
days, "  respectable  "  for  any  one,  no  matter  the  height 

138 


PIPING  PEBWORTH 

or  the  obscurity  of  his  status,  to  drink  more  than 
enough;  but  he  who  in  those  times  shirked  his  drink 
was  accounted  a  very  sorry  fellow.  What  says  Sir  Toby 
Belch,  in  Twelfth  Night  ?  "  He  is  a  coward  and  a  coystril 
that  will  not  drink  till  his  brains  turn  o'  the  toe  like  a 
parish  top."  To  this  day,  in  the  banqueting-room  of 
Haddon  Hall,  we  may  see  what  the  jovial  souls  who  were 
contemporary  with  Shakespeare  did  to  the  man  who 
could  not  or  would  not  finish  his  tankard.  There  is  an 
ingenious  handcuff  in  the  panelling  of  that  apartment 
in  which  the  wrist  of  such  an  one  was  secured,  and  down 
his  sleeve  the  drink  he  had  declined  was  poured.  Nay, 
only  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  the  hospitable  hosts 
and  the  best  of  good  fellows  were  those  to  whom  it  was 
a  point  of  honour  to  see  that  their  guests  were  made,  in 
the  modern  police  phrase,  "  drunk  and  incapable,"  so 
that  they  had  to  be  carried  up  to  bed.  Mr.  Pitt  did  not 
commonly  get  much  "  forrarder  "  on  three  bottles  of 
port,  and  generally  made  his  best  speeches  in  the  House 
when,  having  generously  exceeded  that  allowance,  he 
was  quite  drunk.  Mr.  Fox  was  a  worthy  fellow  to  him. 
Nobod}^  thought  the  worse  of  them — in  fact,  rather  the 
better — for  it.  To  be  drunk  was  the  mark  of  a  gentle- 
man ;  to  be  excessively  drunk — the  very  apogee  of 
inebriety — was  to  be  "  as  drunk  as  a  lord  " ;  no  man 
could  do  more. 

The  villages  whose  bygone  outstanding  features  are 
thus  rhythmically  celebrated  are  scattered  to  the  west 
and  south-west  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  between  six  and 
eight  miles  distant;  the  two  first-named  in  that  wide- 
spreading  level  which  stretches  almost  uninterruptedly 
between  that  town  and  Evesham.  Pebworth,  whose 
name  would  seem  to  enshrine  the  personal  name  of  some 
Saxon  landowner — ^"  Pebba's  weorth  " — is  quite  excep- 
tionally placed  on  a  steep  and  sudden  hill  that  rises  rather 

139 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

dramatically  from  the  level  champaign.  There  is  more 
than  a  thought  too  much  of  new  building  and  of  corru- 
gated tin  roofing  about  the  Pebworth  of  to-day,  and  when 
I  came  up  along  the  village  street  a  steam-roller  was 
engaged  in  compacting  the  macadam  of  the  roadway. 
I  thought  sadly  that  it  was  not  at  all  Shakespearean; 
yet,  you  know,  had  the  roads  been  of  your  true  Shake- 


^^^. 


^^■^^T\_ 


PIPING    PEBWORTH. 


spearean  early  seventeenth-century  sort,  one  would  not 
have  penetrated  to  these  scenes  with  a  bicycle  at  all.  No 
one  pipes  nowadays  at  Pebworth;  there  is  not  even  a 
performer  on  the  penny  whistle  to  sound  a  note,  in 
evidence  of  good  faith.  It  is  a  pretty  enough  village, 
but  not  remarkably  so,  and  offers  the  illustrator  the 
smallest  of  chances,  for  the  church  which  crowns  the 
hill-top  is  so  encircled  with  trees  that  only  the  upper  part 
of  its  tower  is  visible.  The  church,  in  common  with 
nearly  all  the  village  churches  within  the  Shakespeare 

140 


DANCING   MARSTON 

radius,  is  locked,  doubtless  with  a  view  to  extracting 
a  sixpence  from  the  amiable  tourist.  Old  tombstones  to 
a  Shackel,  Shekel  or  Shackle  family — the  name  is  spelled 
in  many  ways — abound  here. 

Long  Marston  lies  in  the  midst  of  this  pleasant,  level 
country,  six  miles  south-west  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  and 
on  a  yet  somewhat  secluded  road;  its  old-time  retire- 
ment that  recommended  it  to  the  advisers  of  the  fugitive 
Charles  the  Second,  when  seeking  a  way  for  him  to  escape 
from  the  country  after  the  defeat  of  his  hopes  at  the 
Battle  of  Worcester,  September  3rd,  1651,  being  little 
changed.  Marston  is  the  only  village  I  have  ever  known 
which  owns  three  adjectives  to  its  name.  "  Long," 
Marston  is  the  better  known  of  them;  "Dancing" 
Marston  is  another,  and  "  Dry  "  Marston — or  "  Marston 
Sicca,"  as  the  pedantic  old  topographers  of  some  two 
centuries  ago  styled  it — forms  the  third.  Whatever 
fitness  may  once  have  attached  to  the  sobriquet  of 
"  Dancing  "  has  long  since  disappeared,  nor  are  the 
traditions  of  its  olden  morris-dancers  one  whit  more 
marked  than  those  of  any  other  village.  In  the  days 
when  Marston  danced,  the  neighbouring  villages  footed 
it  with  equally  light  heart  and  light  heels,  so  far  as  we 
can  tell.  "  Dry  "  Marston,  too,  forms  something  of  a 
puzzle  to  the  observer,  who  notes  not  only  that  it  is  low- 
lying  and  that  the  little  Dorsington  Brook  meanders 
close  at  hand  on  the  map,  in  company  with  other  rills, 
but  also  observes  that  a  stone-paved  causeway  extends 
for  a  considerable  distance  along  the  road  at  the  northern 
end  of  the  village;  evidently  provided  against  flooded 
and  muddy  ways.  Finally,  if  "  Marston  "  does  not 
derive  from  "  marshtown,"  then  there  is  nothing  at  all 
in  derivatives.  We  are  thus  reduced  to  the  better-known 
name,  "  Long  "  Marston. 

Doubtless  the  stranger  expects  to  find  a  considerable 

141 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND 

village,  with  a  long-drawn  street  of  cottages;  but 
Marston  is  not  in  the  least  like  that.  Instead,  you  find 
ancient  half-timbered  and  thatched  cottages,  scattered 
singly,  or  in  groups  of  two  or  three,  fronting  upon  the 
level  road,  each  situated  in  its  large  garden,  where  it 
seems  as  much  a  product  of  the  soil  as  the  apples  and 
pears,  or  the  more  homely  cabbages,  beans,  and  potatoes, 
and  appears  almost  to  have  grown  there,  equally  with 
them.  A  branch  line  of  the  Great  Western  Railway,  it 
is  true,  runs  by,  with  a  station,  but  at  Long  Marston 
station  the  world  goes  easily  and  leisurely ;  sparrows  chirp 
in  the  waiting-room  and  rabbits  sport  along  the  line; 
while  such  work  as  goes  on  in  the  goods-yard  is  punctu- 
ated by  yawns  and  illuminative  anecdotes.  All  this  by 
way  of  praising  these  old-world  surroundings. 

Among  the  cottages  is  an  older  whitewashed  group, 
set  back  from  the  road.  Li  pre-Reformation  times  this 
was  the  Priest's  House.  Across  the  way  stands  the 
pretty  little  fourteenth -century  church,  with  little  of 
interest  within,  but  possessing  a  fine  timbered  north 
porch  of  the  same  period,  the  timbering  at  this  present 
time  of  wi'iting  being  again  exposed  to  view  after  having 
been  covered  up  with  plaster  for  more  than  a  century. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  September  10th,  the  seventh 
day  after  the  disastrous  Battle  of  Worcester,  that  King 
Charles  and  his  two  companions,  Mr.  Lassels  and  Jane 
Lane,  came  to  Long  Marston  and  found  shelter  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  John  Tomes.  The  King  was  in  the 
character  of  "  Will  Jackson,"  servant  of  Mistress  Jane 
Lane ;  in  that  capacity  riding  horseback  in  front  of  her, 
while  she  rode  pillion  behind  him.  We  may  readily 
picture  the  King,  in  his  serva,.nt's  disguise,  kept  in  his 
proper  j)lace  in  the  kitchen,  while  Lassels  and  Jane  Lane 
were  entertained  by  the  master  of  the  house  in  the  best 
parlour.     Blount,  in  his  Boscobel,  published  in  1660,  the 

143 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

year  of  the  Restoration,  illuminates  this  historic  incident 
with  an  anecdote  that  gives  the  brief  sojourn  at  Long 
Marston  as  piquant  and  homely  a  savour  as  that  of  King 
Alfred's  burning  the  cakes  in  the  cottage  where  he  was 
in  hiding,  away  down  in  the  Somersetshire  Isle  of 
Athelney,  nearly  eight  hundred  years  before  the  troubles 
of  the  Stuarts  were  heard  of.  Supper  was  being  prepared 
for  Mr.  Tomes'  guests,  and  the  cook  asked  "  Will 
Jackson  "  to  wind  up  the  roasting-jack.  "  Will  Jack- 
son," says  Blount,  "  was  obedient,  and  attempted  it, 
but  hit  not  the  right  way,  which  made  the  maid  in  some 
passion  ask,  '  What  countryman  are  you,  that  you  know 
not  how  to  wind  up  a  jack  ?  '  To  which  Charles,  who 
was  ever  blessed  with  that  happy  quality  the  French  call 
esprit,  for  which  we  have  no  exactly  corresponding  word, 
replied,  '  I  am  a  poor  tenant's  son  of  Colonel  Lane,  in 
Staffordshire ;  we  seldom  have  roast  meat,  and  when  we 
have,  we  don't  make  use  of  a  jack.'  " 

Every  one  in  Long  Marston  can  point  out  "  King's 
Lodge,"  as  this  historic  house  is  now  known.  Somewhat 
altered,  externally  and  internally,  but  still  in  possession 
of  descendants  of  the  John  Tomes  who  sheltered  the 
King  after  Worcester  Fight,  it  still  retains  the  famous 
roasting-jack,  now  carefully  preserved  in  a  glass-case, 
in  the  room  that  was  in  those  times  a  kitchen,  and  later 
became  a  cider  cellar,  and  is  now  the  dining-room. 

The  Tomes  family — who  pronounce  their  name 
"  Tombs,"  and  have  many  kinsfolk  who  also  spell  it 
in  that  fashion — have  a  curious  and  dismal  pictorial  pun 
upon  their  ancient  patronymic,  by  way  of  coat  of  arms. 
It  represents  three  white  altar  tombs  on  a  green  ground ; 
to  speak  in  the  language  of  heraldry  :  Vert,  three  tomb- 
stones argent. 

John  Tomes  suffered  for  his  loyalty.  Some  of  his 
lands  were  sequestrated  and  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the 

144 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

country;  nor  did  the  Royal  favour  subsequently  shown 
his  family  advantage  them  very  greatly;  the  liberty 
granted  them  of  hunting,  hawking  and  fishing  from  Long 
Marston  to  Crab's  Cross,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Redditch,  being,  it  may  well  be  supposed,  of  little  value. 
Although,  as  already  noted,  changes  have  been  made 
at  "  King's  Lodge,"  one  may  yet,  in  the  quaint  dining- 
room  which  was  then  the  kitchen,  sit  in  the  ingle-nook 
of  the  great  fireplace,  in  which  it  may  be  supposed  "  Will 
Jackson,"  having  doubtless  kissed  the  cook — if  indeed, 
she  were  a  kissable  cook — and  thus  made  amends  for 
his  unhandiness  with  the  roasting-jack,  was  afterwards 
allowed  a  seat. 


146 


CHAPTER   XV 

Tlie  '  Eight  Villages '  {concluded). 

'  Haunted  '  Hillborougli,  '  Hungry '  Grafton, 

'Dodging'  Exhall,   'Papist'  Wixford, 

'  Beggarly  '  Broom,  and  '  Drunken  '  Bidford. 

"  Haunted  Hillborough,"  which  comes  next  in  order 

in  this  rhymed  survey,  is  geographically  remote  from 

Long  Marston,  not  so  much  in  mere  mileage,  for  it  is 

not  quite  three  miles  distant,  measured  in  a  straight 

line,  but  it  is  situated  on  the  other,  and  Warwickshire, 

side  of  the  Avon,   at  a  point  where  the  river  is  not 

bridged.     In  short,  the  traveller  from  Long  Marston  to 

Hillborough  will  scarcely  perform  the  journey  under  six 

miles,  going  by  way  of  Dorsington  and  Barton,  always 

along    crooked    roads,    and    thence    through    Bidford. 

Dorsington  is  an  entirely  pretty  and  extremely  small 

village  with  a  church  noticeable  only  for  the  whimsical 

smallness  of  its  red-brick  Georgian  tower.     Why,  in  a 

lesser-known  local  rhyme,  which  does  not  find  celebrity 

upon  postcards  and  fancy  articles  at  Stratford-on-Avon, 

Dorsington  should  be  known  as  "  Daft  "  is  more  than 

I  can  say;  unless  it  be  that  the  facile  alliteration  is 

irresistible.     There   are  reasons  sufficient  for  this  lack 

of  popularity,  in  the  lines  in  which  Dorsington's  name 

occurs — 

"  Daft  Dorsington,  Lousy  Luddington, 
\\'^elford  for  witches,  Binton  for  bitches, 
An'  Weston  at  th'  end  of  th'  'orld." 

Barton,  through  which  we  come  into  Bidford,  is,  as 
might  perhaps  be  suspected  from  its  name,  merely  a 
L  2  147 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

rustic  hamlet,  for  "  barton  "is  but  the  old  English  word 
for  a  cow-byre  or  a  barn.  It  is  that  "  Burton  Heath  " 
mentioned  in  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  of  which  Chris- 
topher Sly,  "  old  Sly's  son,"  "  by  birth  a  pedlar,  by 
education  a  card-maker,  by  transmutation  a  bear -herd, 
and  now  by  present  profession  a  tinker,"  was  a  native. 

From  Barton  we  cross  the  Avon  into  Bidford  over 
an  ancient  bridge  of  eight  arches  built  in  1482  by  the 
brethren  of  Alcester  priory  to  replace  the  ford  by  which 
travellers  along  the  Ryknield  Street  had  up  to  that  time 
crossed  the  river.  The  eight  arches  of  Bidford  achieve 
the  rather  difficult  feat  of  being  each  of  a  different  shape 
and  size,  and  the  heavy  stonework  itself  has  been 
extensively  patched  with  brick.  Here  the  Avon  is 
encumbered  with  eyots  and  rushes,  very  destructive 
to  the  navigation,  but  affording  very  useful  foregrounds 
for  the  illustrator. 

Bidford  is  wholly  on  the  further,  or  Warwickshire, 
side  of  the  river,  and  is  a  rather  urban-looking  place  of 
one  very  long  and  narrow  street.  It  has  a  population 
of  over  a  thousand,  and  thus,  I  believe,  comes  under 
the  official  deffiiition  of  a  "  populous  place,"  whose  inns 
and  public-houses  are  permitted  to  remain  open  until 
11  p.m.,  which  may  or  may  not  be  a  consideration  here. 
The  inns  of  Bidford  are  numerous,  but  they  do  not 
appear  to  enjoy  their  former  prosperity.  I  adventured 
into  one  of  them  one  thirsty  summer  day,  for  the  purpose 
of  sampling  some  of  the  "  perry  "  advertised  for  sale 
within.  There  was  no  joy  in  the  sour  sorry  stuff  it 
proved  to  be.  You  get  quite  a  quantity  of  it  for  three- 
halfpence  ;  but  it  is  odds  against  your  drinking  half  of 
it.  The  landlady  dolefully  spoke  of  the  state  of  trade. 
She  had  not  taken  half-a-crown  that  day.  Truly,  the 
glories  of  Bidford  have  departed  ! 

The  old   "  Falcon  "   inn,   an  inn  no  longer,   nor  for 

148 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

many  years  past,  stands  in  the  midst  of  this  very 
considerable  village,  close  by  the  parish  church,  whose 
odd  and  not  beautiful  tower  forms  a  prominent  object 
in  the  view  from  the  bridge.  It  is  not  in  the  least  worth 
while  to  enter  that  church,  for  it  has  been  almost  wholly 
rebuilt.  The  nave  has  a  ceiling,  and  there  are  deal 
doors,  painted  and  grained  to  resemble  oak.  The 
chancel,   reconstructed  in  the  more   florid    and    unre- 


-p,*i^'*^.^_^ 


THK         FALCON,       BIDFORD. 


strained  period  of  the  Gothic  revival,  is  a  lamentable 
specimen  of  architectural  zeal  not  according  to  discretion. 

It  is  nearly  a  century  since  the  "  Falcon  "  ceased  to 
be  an  inn.  It  then  became  a  workhouse,  and  thus  many 
a  boozy  old  reprobate  whose  courses  at  the  "  Falcon  " 
had  brought  him  to  poverty  ended  his  days  under  the 
same  roof.  Cynic  Fortune,  turned  moralist  and  temper- 
ance lecturer,  surely  was  never  in  a  more  saturnine 
humour  ! 

The  old  sign  of  the  inn  eventually  found  its  way  to 
Shakespeare's  birthplace.  It  pictured  a  golden  falcon 
on   a  red   ground,   and   bore  additionally  the  arms  of 

150 


,^,'   > 


{ifi^ 


-\h  %5i5^*^*si_-  'rt^^^ 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

the  Skipwith  family,  the  chief  landowners  in  Bidford. 
With  the  sign  went  an  old  chair  in  which  Shakespeare 
is  traditionally  said  to  have  sat.  To-day  the  "  Falcon  " 
is  let  in  tenements,  and  also  houses  the  village  reading- 
room  and  library.  The  building  deserves  a  better  fate, 
for,  as  will  be  noted  from  the  accompanying  illustration, 
it  has  that  quality,  as  admirable  in  architecture  as  in 
men,  character.  It  is  of  two  distinct  styles  :  the  half- 
timbered  gable  noted  along  the  street  being  doubtless 
the  oldest  portion,  apparently  of  the  mid-fifteenth 
century.  This  would  seem  to  be  the  original  inn.  The 
main  block  seems  to  be  about  a  century  later,  and 
would  thus  have  been  a  recent  building  in  Shakespeare's 
youth.  It  was  added  apparently  at  a  period  of  un- 
bounded prosperity  and  is  wholly  of  stone.  The  stone 
is  of  that  very  markedly  striated  blue  lias  much  used 
in  this  district,  and  is  set  in  a  traditional  fashion  once 
greatly  followed,  that  is  to  say,  in  alternate  narrow  and 
broad  bands  or  courses. 

Proceeding  from  Bidford  along  the  Stratford  road 
for  Hillborough  the  haunted,  the  site  of  the  ancient 
crab-apple  tree  is  found,  where  the  defeated  Stratfordians 
slept  off  the  effects  of  their  carouse.  The  road  is  hedged 
now  and  the  fields  enclosed  and  cultivated,  but  in 
Shakespeare's  time  the  way  was  open.  The  spot  is 
marked  on  Ordnance  maps  as  "  Shakespeare's  Crab," 
and  although  the  ancient  tree  finally  disappeared  in  a 
venerable  age  on  December  4th,  1824,  when  its  remains, 
shattered  in  storms  and  hacked  by  relic-hunters,  were 
carted  off  to  Bidford  Grange,  a  younger  tree  of  the 
same  genus  has  been  planted  on  the  identical  site.  We 
may  note  the  spot,  interested  and  unashamed,  because 
although  the  rhymes  upon  the  eight  villages  are  almost 
certainly  not  Shakespeare's — though  probably  quite  as 
old  as  his  period — that  is  no  reason  for  doubting  the 

152 


HAUNTED   HILLBOROUGH 

poet's  taking  part  in  the  drinking  contest.  "  Because 
thou  art  virtuous,  shall  there  be  no  cakes  and  ale  ?  " 
and  because  we  do  not  follow  the  customs  of  our  ancestors 
shall  we  think  them  in  their  generation — and  Shake- 
speare with  them — disreputable  ?  I  think  not,  although, 
with  these  things  in  mind,  I  live  in  daily  expectation  of 
an  article  in  some  popular  journal,  asking,  "  Was 
Shakespeare    Respectable  ?  "     I    think   the    poet    was, 


"HAUNTED    HILLBOROUGH." 

apart  from  his  literary  genius,  an  average  man,  with  the 
weaknesses  of  such ;  and  all  the  more  lovable  for  it. 

Hillborough  is  reached  by  turning  in  a  further  mile  to 
the  right,  off  the  high  road,  at  a  point  where  a  meadow 
is  situated  locally  known  as  "  Palmer's  Piece."  Palmer, 
it  appears,  was  a  farmer  who  drowned  his  wife  in  the 
Avon,  and  was  gibbeted  on  this  spot  for  the  crime. 

A  mile's  journey  along  narrow  roads,  down  towards 
the  river,  brings  the  pilgrim  to  Hillborough.  Now 
Hillborough  is  not  a  village  :  it  is  not  even  a  hamlet, 

153 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

and  is  indeed  nothing  but  the  remaining  mng  of  an  old 
manor-house,  now  a  farm,  and  in  a  very  sohtary  situa- 
tion. It  -v^ill  thunder  and  hghten,  and  rain  heavily 
when  you  go  to  Hillborough — it  always  does  when  you 
seek  interesting  j^laces  in  remote  spots — but  these 
conditions  seem  only  the  more  appropriate  to  the  haunted 
reputation  of  the  scene ;  although  what  was  the  nature 
of    the   hauntings   has   eluded   every   possible    inquiry. 


i  J 


"■  HUNGRY    GRAFTON." 

It  is  thus  curiously  and  wholly  in  keeping  that  the  old 
manor-house  and  its  surroundings  should  look  so  eerie. 
Noble  trees  romantically  overhang  the  house ;  remains 
of  old  buildings  whose  disappearance  mournful  ghosts 
might  grieve  over,  lend  a  dilapidated  air  of  the  Has 
Been  to  the  place ;  and  an  ancient  circular  stone  pigeon- 
house,  a  relic  of  the  former  manor,  stands  beside  a 
dismal  pond.     But  the  ghosts  have  ceased  to  walk. 

A  mile  and  a  half  across  the  Stratford  road,  is  situated 
the  fourth  of  these  eight  villages,  "  Hungry  "  Grafton. 
The  real  name  of  the  place  is  Temple  Grafton.  "Hungry  " 

154 


HUNGRY   GRAFTON 

is  said  to  be  an  allusion  to  a  supposed  poverty  of  the 
soil,  but  farmers  of  this  neighbourhood,  although  fully 
as  dissatisfied  as  you  expect  a  farmer  to  be,  do  not  lend 
much  help  to  the  stranger  seeking  information.  "  I've 
varmed  wuss  land  an'  I've  varmed  better,"  was  the 
eminently  non-committal  reply  of  one ;  while  another 
was  of  the  opinion  that  "  it  'on't  break  us,  nor  yet  it 
'on't  make  us." 

The  Shakespearean  tourist  will  not  be  pleased  with 
Grafton,  for  the  squire  of  the  adjoining  Grafton  Court 
practically  rebuilt  the  whole  village  some  forty  years 
ago.  It  is  true  that  was  not  a  heroic  undertaking,  for 
it  is  a  small  village,  but  the  doing  of  it  very  effectually 
quenches  the  traveller's  enthusiasm.  Even  the  church 
was  rebuilt  in  1875  :  a  peculiarly  unfortunate  thing, 
because  the  old  building  was  one  of  those  for  which 
claim  was  made  for  having  beenthe  scene  of  Shakespeare's 
marriage,  that  elusive  ceremony  of  which  no  register 
survives  to  bear  witness.  It  is  only  in  practical,  un- 
sentimental England  that  these  things  are  at  all 
possible.  A  furious  desire  to  obliterate  every  possible 
Shakespearean  landmark  would  almost  seem  to  have 
possessed  the  people  of  the  locality,  until  quite  recent 
years.  Grafton,  whose  "  Temple  "  prefix  derives  from 
the  manor  having  anciently  been  one  of  the  possessions 
of  the  Knights  Templar,  stands  on  a  hill.  The  site  is 
thought  to  have  been  covered  in  olden  times  with 
scrub-woods,  "  Grafton  "  or  "  Greveton,"  taking  its 
name  from  "  greves  " ;  a  word  signifying  underwoods. 
Similar  place-names  are  found  in  Northamptonshire, 
in  Grafton  Regis  and  Grafton  Underwood,  situated 
in  Whittlebury  Forest. 

The  only  possible  picture  in  "  Hungry  "  Grafton  is 
that  sketched  here,  from  below  the  ridge,  where  a  brook 
runs    beneath   the   road,    beside   a   group  of   red-brick 

155 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

cottages.  If  you  ascend  the  road  indicated  here  and 
pass  the  highly  uninteresting  church  and  schools,  you 
come  to  the  hamlet  of  Ardens  Grafton,  a  very  much 
more  gracious  and  picturesque  place,  although  in  ex- 
tremely tumbledown  and  dilapidated  circumstances. 
It  is  very  much  of  a  woodland  hamlet,  and  appears  to 
owe  the  first  part  of  its  name  rather  to  that  circum- 
stance than  to  ownership  at  any  time  by  the  Arden 


THE    HOLLOW    ROAD,    EXHALL. 


family  :    Ardens  in  this  case  signifying  a  height  over- 
looking a  wooded  Vale. 

The  situation  of  the  place  does  in  fact  most  aptly 
illustrate  the  derivation,  for  it  stands  upon  a  very 
remarkable  ridge,  which  must  needs  be  descended  by 
a  steep  and  sudden  hill  if  we  want  to  reach  Exhall. 
Descending  the  almost  precipitous  and  narrow  road 
with  surprise,  the  nearly  cliff-like  escarpment  is  seen 
trending  away  most  strikingly  to  the  north.  We  are 
now  in  the  valley  of  the  river  Arrow.     On  the  way  to 

156 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Exhall  we  come — not  led  by  Caliban — to  "  where  crabs 
grow,"  for  the  hedgerows  here  are  remarkable  for  the 
number  of  crab-apple  trees.  Shakespeare  must  have 
had  them  in  mind  when  he  wrote  The  Tempest.  Exhall 
lies  in  a  beautiful  country,  on  somewhat  obscure  byways 
that  may  have  given  the  place  that  elusive  character 
with  strangers  to  which  it  owes  its  nickname  of  "  Dodg- 
ing "  :  although,  to  be  sure  there  are  the  other  readings 
of  "  Dadging,"  whose  meaning  no  one  seems  to  compre- 
hend;  and  "Drudging,"  which  it  is  held  is  the  true 
epithet,  given  in  allusion  to  the  heavy  ploughlands  of 
the  vale.  Yet  another  choice  has  been  found,  in 
"  Dudging,"  supposed  to  mean  "  sulky  " ;  but  the 
ingenuity  of  commentators  in  these  things  is  endless. 
There  is,  at  any  rate,  in  coming  from  Ardens  Grafton, 
no  modern  difficulty  in  finding  Exhall.  It  is  a  little 
village  of  large  farms,  with  a  small  aisleless  Early  English 
and  Decorated  church  whose  interest  has  been  almost 
wholly  destroyed  by  the  so-called  "  restoration  "  of  1863. 
A  window  with  the  ball-flower  moulding  characteristic 
of  the  Decorated  period  remains  in  the  south  wall,  and 
there  are  brasses  to  John  Walsingham,  1566,  and  his 
wife ;  but  for  the  rest,  the  stranger  within  these  gates 
need  not  regret  the  church  being  locked,  in  common  mth 
most  others  in  Shakespeare  land.  The  hollow  road  at 
Exhall,  with  high,  grassy  banks  and  the  group  of  charm- 
ing old  half-timbered  cottages  illustrated  here  is  a 
delight.  The  builder  who  built  them — they  are  certainly 
at  least  a  century  older  than  Shakespeare — built  more 
picturesquely  than  he  knew,  with  those  sturdy  chimney- 
stacks  and  the  long  flight  of  stairs  ascending  from  the 
road. 

There  are  orchards  at  Exhall  where  I  think  the 
"  leather-coats  "  such  as  Davy  put  before  Shallow's 
guests  yet  grow  :  they  are  a  russet  apple,  and,  like  the 

158 


M6\m\i      ,3WU3      3Q      ^luOMgx       xuajBC     Jt?.     >f       «^ 


gt  <^  !!fliltanf^  <::3  Sjcp<:?  ma  .cg>  ^ue  <:^  ofeit  c3 

BRASS    TO    THOMAS    DE    CRUWE    AND    WIFE,    WIXFORD. 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

"  bitter-sweeting,"  own  a  local  name  which  Shakespeare, 
the  Warwickshire  countryman,  knew  well  enough,  but  of 
whose  existence  Bacon  could  have  known  nothing. 
What  says  ]\Iercutio  to  Romeo  ?  "  Thy  wit  is  a  very 
bitter  sweeting  :  it  is  a  most  sharp  sauce."  And  if  you, 
tempted  by  the  beautiful  yellow  of  that  apple,  pick  one 
and  taste  it,  you  will  find  the  bitterness  of  it  bite  to  the 
very  bone. 

Exhall  takes  the  first  part  of  its  name,  "  ex,"  from 
the  Celtic  word  uisg,  for  water  :  a  word  which  has  given 
the  river  Exe  its  name,  and  masquerades  elsewhere  as 
Ouse,  Exe,  Usk,  Esk,  and  so  forth.  But  the  river  Arrow 
is  a  mile  distant,  and  Wixford,  which  comes  next,  whose 
boundaries  extend  to  that  stream,  is  much  better  entitled 
to  its  name,  which  was  originally  "uisg-ford,"  meaning 
"  water -ford." 

"  Papist  "  Wixford  is  said  to  have  derived  its  nick- 
name from  the  Throckmortons,  staunch  Roman  Catholics, 
who  once  owned  property  here.  The  Arrow  runs  close 
by  the  scattered  cottages  of  this  tiny  place,  which  might 
be  styled  merely  a  hamlet,  except  that  it  has  a  parish 
church  of  its  own.  A  delightful  little  church  it  is,  too, 
placed  on  a  ridge  and  neighboured  only  by  some  timber- 
framed  cottages.  Luxuriant  elms  group  nobly  with  it, 
and  in  the  churchyard  is  a  very  large  and  handsome 
yew-tree,  whose  spreading  branches,  perhaps  more 
symmetrical  than  those  of  any  other  yew  of  its  size  in 
this  country,  are  supported  at  regidar  intervals  by  timber 
struts,  forming  a  curious  and  notable  sight.  There  are 
monumental  brasses  in  the  little  church ;  by  far  the  best 
of  them,  however,  is  the  noble  brass  to  Thomas  de 
Cmwe  and  his  wife  Juliana,  appropriately  placed  in  the 
south  chapel  that  was  founded  by  him.  Thomas  de 
Cruwe — whose  name  was  really  "  Crewe,"  only  our 
ancestors  were  used  to  spell  phonetically— was  scarcely 

160 


SUMINIER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

the  warlike  knight  he  would,  from  his  plate-armour  and 
mighty  sword,  appear  to  be.  He  was,  in  fact,  chief 
steward  to  Richard  Beauchamp,  Earl  of  Warwick,  and 
attorney  to  the  Countess  Margaret,  widow  of  his  prede- 
cessor. He  was,  further,  a  "  Knight  of  the  Shire,"  or 
member  of  Parliament,  in  1404,  and  Justice  of  the  Peace ; 
and  having  filled  these  various  professional  and  official 
positions,  let  us  hope  with  as  much  satisfaction  to  his 
employers  and  others  as  obviously  to  his  own  advantage, 
he  died  at  last  in  his  bed,  as  all  good  lawyers,  even  of  his 
date,  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  ought  to 
do,  in  the  year  1418.  The  date  of  his  death  is,  however, 
not  mentioned  on  the  brass,  the  blanks  in  the  inscrip- 
tion, left  for  the  purpose,  having  never  been  filled. 
His  wife  Juliana,  who  had  been  the  widow  of  one  of  the 
Cloptons,  predeceased  him,  in  1411,  and  Thomas  de 
Cruwe  caused  this  beautiful  and  costly  brass  to  be 
engraved  in  his  own  lifetime.  The  incomplete  inscrip- 
tion is  by  no  means  unusual,  numerous  brasses  through- 
out the  country  displaying  similar  unfilled  spaces; 
pointing  to  the  indifference  with  which  the  date  of 
departure  of  the  dear  departed  was  all  too  often  re- 
garded by  their  more  or  less  sorrowing  heirs,  executors, 
and  assigns. 

This  splendidly-engraved  brass,  which  ranks  among 
the  largest  and  finest  in  England,  is  mounted  on  a  raised 
slab  measuring  nine  by  four  feet ;  the  effigies  five  feet  in 
height.  A  curious  error  of  the  engraver  of  this  monu- 
ment  is  to  be  noted,  in  the  omission  of  Thomas  de 
Cruwe's  sword-belt  or  baldrick,  by  which  the  sword 
hanging  from  his  waist  has  no  visible  means  of  support. 
The  odd  badge— apparently  unique  in  heraldry — of  a 
naked  human  left  foot  is  seen  many  times  repeated  on 
the  brass.  No  explanation  of  it  seems  ever  to  have 
been  offered.     We  might  have  expected  a  cock  in  the 

162 


BEGGARLY  BROOM 

act  of  crowing,  for  "  Crewe,"  for  our  ancestors  dearly 
loved  puns  upon  family  names  and  were  never  daunted 
by  the  vapidity  or  appalling  stupidity  of  them ;  but  in 
this  case  they  forbore. 

The  penultimate  village  of  these  rhymes,  "  Beggarly  " 
Broom,  also  stands  upon  the  Arrow.  Marston,  as  we 
have  seen,  dances  no  more,  nor  does  Pebworth  pipe ; 
the  supernatural  no  longer  vexes  Hillborough,  and 
Grafton  is  not  so  hungry  as  you  might  suppose.  Exhall 
is  not  difficult  to  find,  and  there  are  not  any  Roman 
Catholics  at  Wixford ;  while  Bidford  is  not  obviously 
drunken.     But  Broom  is  just  as  beggarly  as  ever. 

Broom  was  originally  a  hamlet  of  squatters  on  a 
gorsy,  or  broom-covered  heath,  and  a  hamlet  it  yet 
remains.  Modern  times  have  brought  Broom  a  railway 
junction  and  a  bridge  across  the  Arrow,  where  was  until 
recently  only  a  ford ;  but  Broom  is  not  to  be  moved  into 
activity  by  these  things,  or  anything.  Anglers  come  by 
cheap  tickets  from  Birmingham  and  fish  in  the  Arrow, 
and  swap  lies  at  the  "  Hollybush  "  and  "  Broom  "  inns 
about  what  they  have  caught,  but  there  still  is  that 
poverty-stricken  air  about  the  place  which  originally 
attracted  the  notice  of  the  rhymester,  centuries  ago.  A 
flour-mill,  still  actively  at  work  by  the  river,  and  a  new 
house  being  built,  do  little  to  qualify  this  ancient  aspect 
of  squalid  decay,  which  seems  to  extend  even  to  the 
inhabitants,  who  may  be  observed  sitting  stolidly  and 
abstractedly,  as  though  contemplating  the  immensities. 
They  are  probably  only  wondering  whence  to-morrow's 
dinner  is  coming,  a  branch  of  philosophical  inquiry  of 
poignant  interest. 


M  2  163 


CHAPTER   XVI 

The    '^ Swan's    Nest'  —  Haunted?  —  Clifford    Chambers  —  Wincot — 
Qiiinton^  and  its  club  day. 

Twelve  miles  south  of  Stratford,  across  the  level 
lands  of  the  Feldon,  you  come  to  Chipping  Campden, 
perched  upon  the  outlying  hills  of  the  Cotswold  country. 
The  inevitable  way  southward  out  of  Stratford  town 
lies  over  the  Clopton  Bridge,  and  then,  having  crossed 
the  Avon,  the  roads  diverge.  To  the  left  you  proceed 
for  Charlecote  and  Kineton  ;  straight  ahead  for  Banbury 
and  London ;  and  to  the  right  for  Chipping  Campden 
or  for  Shipston-on-Stour,  The  jDoint  where  these  roads 
branch  and  go  their  several  ways  was  until  recently  a 
very  charming  exit  from  or  entrance  to  the  town.  Here 
stands  the  old  inn,  the  "  Swan's  Nest,"  ex  "  Shoulder  of 
Mutton,"  by  the  waterside,  and  opposite  are  the  grounds 
of  the  old  manor-house,  enclosed  behind  lofty  and 
massive  brick  walls. 

The  "  Swan's  Nest  "  is  a  red-brick  house  of  good 
design,  built  in  1677,  when  an  excellent  taste  in  archi- 
tecture prevailed.  The  sign  was  then  the  "  Bear,"  a 
very  usual  name  in  these  marches  of  the  Warwick 
influence.  It  arose  upon  the  site  of  a  hermitage  and 
Chapel  of  St.  Mary  IMagdalene  that  had  long  subsisted 
upon  the  alms  of  travellers  this  way,  generations  before 
Sir  William  Clopton  built  his  bridge,  and  remained  for 
some  time  afterwards,  until  the  Reformation  swept  all 
such  things  away. 

The  manor-house  opposite  is  now  to  let,  and  long  has 

164. 


HAUNTED  ? 

been.  They  say  it  is  haunted — but  "  they  "  ?  Who 
then  are  they  ?  No  very  rehable  folk,  be  sure  :  only 
those  irresponsible  gossips  who  scent  mysteries  behind 
every  board  announcing  "  This  Desirable  Mansion  to 
Let."  The  more  desirable  the  mansion,  the  more 
inexplicable  that  it  should  not  be  desired  of  some  one 
and  become  let.  As  the  months  go  by  and  lengthen 
into  years  and  the  house-agents'  boards  begin  them- 
selves to  show  some  evidences  of  antiquity,  the  mystery 


-Ml 


CLOPTON    BRIDGE,    AND    THE         SWAN  S    NEST. 

deepens  and  the  ghost  is  born.  I  think  this  especial 
ghost  was  born  in  the  bar-parlour  of  the  "  Swan's 
Nest."  But  it  is  difficult  to  get  any  exact  information 
about  this  spirit.  It  would  be  :  it  invariably  is. 
Whether  the  midnight  spook  be  some  mournful  White 
Lady  who  looks  from  the  dust-grimed  windows  of 
yonder  gazebo  upon  the  road,  or  some  horrific  spectre 
who  like  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father  "  could  a  tale  un- 
fold, whose  lightest  word  Would  harrow  up  thy  soul  " 
and  make 

"  Each  particular  hair  to  stand  on  end. 
Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine," 

I  cannot  say.  But  the  local  gossip  will  not  lesson  as 
time  goes  on  and  the  place  remains  unlet.     There  could 

165 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

not,  for  one  thing,  be  a  much  better  setting  for  ghostly 
manifestations.  It  is  true  that  the  road  is  one  much 
used  by  traffic,  and  by  motorists  in  especial,  whose  dust 
and  horrid  odours  might  well  disgust  any  but  the  hardiest 
of  wraiths  ;  but  here  is  the  old  garden-pavilion  or  gazebo 
on  the  wall  at  the  fork  of  roads,  with  its  quaint  roof  and 
the  windows  from  which  the  people  of  the  manor  would 
look  out  upon  the  traffic  when  it  was  not  so  dusty  and 
did  not  stink  so  much,  and  here  are  still  the  trunks  of 
the  magnificent  elms  that  until  recently  cast  a  grateful 
shade  upon  the  road  and  made  the  bridge -end  so  beautiful 
a  scene.  But  the  elms  have  been  lopped  and  show 
cruelly  amputated  limbs,  and  no  one  looks  any  more 
from  the  gazebo  :   it  is  an  eloquent  picture  of  the  Past. 

Beyond  this  spot  we  leave  the  Shipston  road  and  turn 
to  the  right,  coming  in  two  miles  to  Clifford  Chambers, 
which  is  not  the  block  of  offices  or  residential  flats  its 
name  would  seem  to  the  Londoner  to  imply,  but  a 
picturesque  village,  taking  the  first  part  of  its  name  from 
an  olden  ford  on  the  Stour,  and  the  second  part  from 
the  manor  having  formerly  been  the  property  of  the 
house-stewards,  or  "  Chamberers,"  of  the  great  Abbey 
of  Gloucester. 

The  village  street  of  Clifford  Chambers  stands  at  an 
angle  from  the  road,  and  so  keeps  its  ancient  character 
the  better,  for  the  way  through  it  down  to  the  Stour 
is  only  a  rustic  track.  Clifford  Chambers  is  therefore 
entirely  unspoiled.  Here  is  the  church,  grouping 
beautifully  with  the  ancient  parsonage,  now  a  farm- 
house again,  as  it  was  during  the  time  of  the  plague  at 
Stratford,  in  the  year  when  William  Shakespeare  was 
born,  and  when  a  mysterious  John  Shakespeare  was 
living  here.  "  Mysterious  "  because  nothing  more  is 
known  of  him,  and  because  the  question  arises  in  some 
minds,    "  Was   the    John    Shakespeare   then   living   at 

166 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Clifford  Chambers  identical  with  the  John  Shakespeare 
of  Stratford-on-Avon,  father  of  William  ?  Was  William 
Shakespeare,  in  fact,  born  here,  instead  of  at  '  the 
Birthplace  '  in  Henley  Street,  or  did  John  Shakespeare 
remove  his  wife  and  infant  son  hither  when  the  plague 
broke  out  in  the  summer  of  15C4  ?  "  Any  question  of 
this  being  the  birthplace  would  seem  to  be  at  once 
disposed  of  by  the  undoubted  baptism  of  William 
Shakespeare  at  the  parish  church  of  Stratford-on-Avon ; 
but  the  summer  retreat  of  the  Shakespeares  to  this  place 
may  yet  be  a  field  for  interesting  speculation. 

There  is  not  a  more  charming  old  black-and-white 
house  in  the  neighbourhood  than  this,  with  its  long 
range  of  perpendicular  timbers,  roughly-split  in  the  old 
English  fashion,  which  might  well  show  some  "  restorers  " 
how  to  do  it ;  and  the  odd  outside  stairway  at  the  gable- 
end,  roofed  over  with  its  little  penthouse  roof.  It  comes 
well  enough  in  black  and  white,  but  forms  a  feast  of 
mellow  colour,  in  the  rich  but  subdued  tints  that  the 
lichens  and  the  stains  of  time  and  weather  have  given. 

Facing  up  the  rustic  street,  more  like  a  village  green 
than  street,  is  another  and  a  statelier  house  :  the  manor- 
house,  enclosed  within  its  garden-walls.  It  is  of  stone, 
in  the  early  years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when  Queen 
Anne  reigned. 

''Anna,  wliom  three  realms  obey. 
Who  sometimes  counsel  takes,  and  sometimes  tay.  " 

The  view  through  the  gates,  flanked  vnih  imposing 
masonry  piers  crested  with  what  the  country  folk  call 
"  gentility  balls,"  shows  a  delightful  picture  of  old-world 
stateliness.  Time  within  this  enclosure  seems  to  have 
stood  still.  You  can  imagine  people  living  here  who 
still  take  "  a  dish  of  tay,"  who  are  "  vastly  obleeged  " 
when  you  ask  them  how  they  do,  and  "  protest  they 

168 


WINCOT 

are  mighty  well,"  or  have  "  the  vapours,"  as  the  case 
may  be,  instead  of  being,  as  they  would  be  in  other 
surroundings  and  in  the  vile  phrases  of  to-day,  "  awfully 
fit,"  or  "  feeling  rotten." 

You  can  imagine,  I  say,  the  owners  of  this  fine  old 
manor-house  drinking  their  dish  of  tay  out  of  fine  old 
"  chaney,"  as  they  used  to  call  it;  still  speaking  in  the 
fashion  that  went  out  of  date  with  the  death  of  the  great 
Duke  of  Wellington,  who  was  among  the  last,  I  believe, 
to  say  "  obleeged  "  and  to  call  a  chair  a  "  cheer."  Now 
only  the  inost  rustic  of  rustics  talk  in  this  manner,  and 
when  they  say  "  cowcumber,"  and  "  laylock,"  and 
speak  of  "  going  fust  "  they  are  thought  vulgar  and 
reproved  by  their  children.  But  such  was  the  pro- 
nunciation used  by  the  best  in  the  land  in  years  gone  by. 

There  are  the  loveliest  gardens  in  the  rear  of  this  old 
manor-house,  with  orchards  of  apples  and  pears  and 
wall-fruit  beyond,  and  an  older  wing  by  a  century 
or  so. 

The  main  road  goes  straight  ahead  for  some  miles, 
with  Long  Marston  rather  more  than  a  mile  on  the  right. 
It  is  fully  described  in  these  pages,  in  the  first  of  the  two 
chapters  on  the  "  Eight  Villages."  On  the  left  is  the 
old  farm-house  which  is  all  that  is  left  of  the  hamlet 
of  Wincot,  the  place  where  "  Marian  Hacket,  the  fat 
ale  wife,"  mentioned  by  Christopher  Sly  in  the  induction 
to  the  Taming  of  the  Shreiv,  had  her  alehouse,  at  which 
that  drunken  tinker  had  run  up  a  score.  Many  of  the 
hamlets  round  about  are  "cotts,"  "cotes,"  or  "cots"; 
Grimscote,  Foxcote,  Hidcote,  Idlicote,  Darlingscott, 
and  others.  Wincot  as  a  hamlet  of  Quinton  finds 
mention  in  the  registers  of  that  church,  and  in  them, 
November  21st,  1591,  is  still  to  be  found  the  entry 
recording  the  baptism  of  Sara  Hacket,  daughter  of 
Robert  Hacket.     The  fat  Marian,  therefore,  who  allowed 

169 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

drunken  undesirables  to  run  up  scores,  was  probably  a 
real  person. 

As  we  make  for  Quinton  the  tree-crowned  height  of 
Meon  Hill,  an  outpost  of  the  Cotswolds,  forms  a  striking 
landmark  in  this  vale.  It  is,  according  to  the  Ordnance 
Survey,  637  feet  high,  and  its  position  gives  it  an  appear- 
ance of  even  greater  eminence.  At  its  foothills  lies  the 
village  of  Quinton,  in  a  district  very  little  disturbed  by 
strangers,  and  in  summer  days  one  of  quiet  delights. 
Coming  over  to  Quinton  one  afternoon,  from  a  day  of 
hospitable  entertainment  at  King's  Lodge,  Long  Marston, 
I  cycled  along  the  quiet  sunlit  road,  past  the  old  toll- 
house with  its  little  strip  of  wayside  garden,  and  silently 
came  upon  a  black  cat,  appreciatively  and  with  much 
evident  enjoyment  smelling  the  wall-flowers  growing 
there.  One  never  before  credited  cats  with  a  liking  for 
sweet  scents. 

Only  one  event  during  the  year  disturbs  the  serenity 
of  Quinton.  At  other  times  it  drowses,  like  all  its  fellow 
villages  of  the  vale ;  but  this  one  occasion  is  like  that  in 
Tennyson's  May  Queen,  the  "  maddest,  merriest  day." 
It  is  the  day  when  Quinton  Club  holds  high  revel.  I  do 
not  know  what  is  the  purpose  of  Quinton  Club,  but  the 
occasion  of  its  merry-making  is  like  that  of  a  village 
fair,  and  all  those  travelling  proprietors  of  steam  round- 
abouts, cocoa-nut  shies,  shooting-galleries  and  popular 
entertainments  of  that  kind  who  attend  fairs  make  a 
point  of  visiting  this  celebration.  And  indeed  I  do  not 
know  what  Quinton  would  do  without  them  and  the 
many  stall-keepers  who  come  in  their  train. 

To  say  merely  that  Quinton  is  not  a  large  place  would 
be  to  leave  some  sort  of  impression  that,  if  not  a  little 
town,  it  was  at  least  a  considerable  village.  It  is,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  a  very  small  one,  but  to  it  on  this  day 
of  days  resort  the  people  of  those  neighbouring  places 

170 


QUINTON   CLUB  DAY 

unfortunate  enough  to  have  neither  chib  nor  fair  of  their 
own,  and  you  may  see  them  trudging  from  all  directions  ; 
driving  in  on  farm-wagons  seated  with  kitchen-chairs 
for  this  purpose,  or  cycling.  Towards  evening,  when 
most  of  the  countryside  has  arrived,  the  strident  tones 
of  the  steam  organ  that  forms  not  the  least  important 
part  of  the  roundabout,  the  thuds  of  the  heavy  mallets 
on  the  "  try-your-strength  "  machines,  the  shouting  of 
the  cocoa-nut  shy  proprietors,  and  the  general  hum  and 
buzz  of  the  fair  astonish  the  stranger  afar  off.  Near  at 
hand,  the  scent  of  fried  fish  is  heavy  on  the  air  and  ginger- 
bread is  hot  i'  the  mouth,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  hurly- 
burly  the  steam  roundabout  blares  and  glares,  presided 
over  by  a  very  highly-coloured  full-length  portrait  of 
no  less  a  person  than  Lord  Roberts,  in  the  full  equipment 
of  Field  Marshal ;  the  surest  test  of  a  soldier's  popularity. 
Lord  Kitchener  has  never  yet  become  the  presiding  hero 
over  the  galloping  horses  of  the  steam  roundabout  :  he 
is  perhaps  something  too  grim  for  these  occasions. 

I  think,  beneath  the  pictured  face  of  Lord  Roberts 
there  lurks  the  countenance  of  he  who  was  the  popular 
favourite  immediately  before  him ;  Lord  Wolseley, 
who  for  twenty  years  or  more  was  in  the  shrewd  opinion 
of  the  showmen,  the  most  attractive  personality  to 
preside  over  the  steam-trumpets,  the  odious  "  kist  o' 
whustles,"  the  mirrors  and  the  circulating  wooden 
horses.  The  showmen  know  best,  they  are  in  touch  with 
popular  sentiment ;  and  be  sure  that  if  you  scraped  off 
Lord  Roberts,  you  would  find  the  face  of  Lord  Wolseley 
there.  Indeed,  the  possibility  of  a  real  stratum  of 
military  heroes  is  only  limited  by  the  age  of  the  machine 
itself  ;  and  if  it  were  only  old  enough  one  might  penetrate 
beyond  Lord  Wolseley  to  Lord  Raglan,  and  even  back 
to  that  ancient  hero  of  the  inn  signs,  the  Marquis  of 
Granby. 

171 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

The  fine  church  of  Qiiinton  looks  across  the  road  to 
the  village  inn,  the  "  College  Arms."  The  arms  are 
those  of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  owner  of  the  manor. 

The  church  is  a  Decorated  building,  with  fine  spire, 
and  contains  some  interesting  monuments  ;  chief  among 
them  an  altar-tomb  with  a  very  fine  brass  to  Joan 
Clopton,  widow  of  Sir  William  Clopton,  who  died  in 
1419.  An  effigy,  on  another  altar-tomb,  seen  in  the 
church,  is  said  by  some  to  be  that  of  her  husband; 
others  declare  it  to  be  that  of  one  Thomas  le  Roos. 
She  survived  her  husband  several  years,  dying  about 
1430,  in  the  habit  of  a  religious  recluse,  or  "  vowess." 
She  lived  probably  in  a  cell  or  anchoress's  hold  built 
on  to  the  church  and  commanding  a  view  of  the 
altar,  and  must  have  had  a  singularly  poor  time  of 
it  in  all  those  eleven  years.  No  trace  remains  of  her 
uncomfortable  and  singularly  dull  habitation.  This 
misguided  lady  was  by  birth  a  Besford  of  Besford  in 
Worcestershire,  and  her  coat  of  arms,  displayed  separately 
and  also  impaled  with  that  of  her  husband,  has  six 
golden  pears  on  a  red  ground,  by  way  of  a  painfully  far- 
fetched pun  on  "  Besford."  Not  even  the  most  desolat- 
ing punster  of  our  own  time  could  or  would  torture 
"  Besford  "  into  "  Pearsford,"  but  our  remote  ancestors 
were  capable  of  the  greatest  enormities  in  this  way. 

Some  of  the  red  enamel  still  remains  in  the  heraldic 
shields  on  this  fine  brass,  which,  including  its  canopy, 
is  six  feet  four  inches  long.  The  figure  of  Joan  Clopton, 
and  the  brass  in  general,  is  in  excellent  condition,  perhaps 
because  the  descendants  of  the  family  took  care  of 
it.  One  of  them,  a  certain  "  T.  Lingen,"  whose  name 
appears  upon  the  tomb,  repaired  it  in  1739.  A  Latin 
verse  occupies  the  margin  of  the  brass,  with  little  figures 
of  pears  repeated  at  intervals.  The  verse  has  been 
translated  as  follows — 

172 


LOWER   CLOPTON 

"  Vowed  to  a  holy  life  when  ceased  her  knightly  husband's  breath, 
Joan  Clopton  here,  Ainie's  grandchild  dear,'  implores  Thy  grace  in 

death  ; 
O  !  Christ,  for  Thee,  O  !  Jesu  Idest,  how  largely  hath  she  shed 
Her  bounteous  gifts  on  poor  and  sick — how  hath  she  garnished 
Thy  stately  shrines  with  splendour  meet — how  hath  she  sent  before 
Her  earthly  wealth  to  Thee  above,  to  swell  her  heavenly  store, 
For  such  blest  fruits  of  faith,  O  grant,  in  Thine  own  house  her  home  : 
Soft  lies  an  earthly  tomb  on  those  to  whom  these  heavenly  blessings 

come." 

A  scroll  above  her  head  is  inscribed  with  the  words — 

''Complaceat  tibi  dne  eripias  me 
Due  ad  adiuuand'  me  respice " 

an  appeal  that  may  be  rendered,  "  Be  good  and  loving 
to  me,  O  Lord." 

A  striking  instance  of  the  affection  inspired  by  Queen 
Elizabeth  is  to  be  noticed  in  the  Royal  arms  of  her  period 
over  the  chancel  arch,  bearing,  in  addition  to  "  that 
glorious  '  Semper  Eadem  '  "  alluded  to  by  Macaulay 
in  his  ballad  on  the  Armada,  the  inscription  "  God  love 
our  noble  Queen." 

Resuming  the  way  to  Chipping  Campden,  the  road 
passes  the  spot  marked  on  the  maps  "  Lower  Clopton." 
This,  or  the  other  tiny  hamlet  away  on  the  left,  called 
"  Upper  Clopton,"  was  the  home  of  that  first  Shakespeare 
recorded  in  history,  who  was  hanged  in  1248  for  robbery. 
Through  Mickleton,  a  more  considerable  village  than  its 
neighbours,  and  deriving  its  original  name  of  "  Mycclan- 
tune,"  the  "  larger  town,"  from  that  fact,  up  climbs  the 
highway  to  Campden. 

It  is  in  some  ways  difficult  to  imagine  Campden  the 
busy  and  prosperous  place  it  once  unquestionably  was ; 
but  the  quiet  old  streets,  lined  with  houses  almost  every 
one  of  good  architectural  character ;  and  the  old  market- 
house,  and  the  fine  church  give  full  assurance  of  the 
commercial  activity  and  the  wealth  that  have  departed. 

173 


CHAPTER   XVII 

Chipping  Campden. 

Campden's  position  as  a  market  town  dates  back  to 
Saxon  times,  when  the  verb  "  ceapan,"  to  buy,  gave 
the  prefix  "  Cliipping  "  to  it.  The  town  rose  to  greater 
prosperity  when  the  ancient  wool-growing  wealth  of 
the  Cotswolds  was  doubled  by  the  manufacture  in  these 
same  districts  of  the  cloth  from  those  wealth-bringing 
fleeces ;  and  great  fortunes  were  amassed  by  both  wool- 
merchants  and  clothiers.  The  rise  of  England  from 
an  agricultural  and  a  wool-growing  country,  such  as 
Australia  now  is,  to  a  manufacturing  community 
directly  concerned  such  towns  as  Stroud,  Northleach, 
Burford  and  Chipping  Campden,  which,  with  the  intro- 
duction of  weaving,  earned  two  profits  instead  of  one. 
There  are  perhaps  a  dozen  little  Cotswold  towns  whose 
great  churches  were  rebuilt  in  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  centuries,  in  a  magnificent  style  by  the  wealthy 
merchants  of  the  time,  whose  monumental  brasses  still 
in  many  cases  remain,  representing  them  standing  upon 
sheep,  or  woolsacks,  or  with  the  tailor's  shears  between 
their  legs  ;  the  origins  of  their  wealth.  When  the  cloth 
manufacture  largely  migrated  to  the  Midlands  and  the 
north,  such  towns  as  Campden,  Burford,  and  Northleach 
began  to  decay,  and  now  that  Australia  is  the  chief 
source  of  the  wool  supply  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  they 
are  ever  to  recover.  They  are  not  on  the  great  routes 
of  traffic,  and  railways  do  not  come  near  them. 

Campden  is  situated  on  a  kind  of  shelf  or  narrow 

174 


OLD    HDUSE.S,    CUIPPIiNG    CAMI'DEX. 


:^ 


THE    MAKKET   HOUSE,    CHIl'l'INO    CAMl'DEN. 


[  Tufdcc  p.  174. 


CHIPPING   CAMPDEN 

plateau  upon  the  Cots  wolds.  You  come  steeply  up 
to  it,  and,  leaving  it,  rise  as  steeply  as  before.  Like 
most  of  its  neighbours  on  Cotswold,  it  is  a  stone-built 
town,  grown  grey  with  age  and  weathering.  When 
some  new  mason-work  is  undertaken — which  is  not 
often — the  stone  is  seen  to  be  of  a  pale  biscuit  colour; 
but  it  soon  loses  that  new  tint  and  rapidly  acquires  the 
rather  sad  hue  of  the  older  work. 

The  traveller  fresh  from  Stratford,  where  brick,  and 
timber-framed  and  plastered  houses  abound,  feels 
astonishment  in  the  sudden  transition  to  a  place  like 
Campden,  in  which  I  believe  there  is  not  a  single  example 
of  timber-framing. 

The  old  town  of  Campden  is  extraordinarily  full  of 
architectural  interest ;  with  domestic  work  ranging  from 
the  mid -fourteenth  century  house  of  the  Grevels  to  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when  the  town 
began  to  decline  and  building  ceased.  No  modern 
suburbs  are  found  on  the  outskirts  of  Campden.  I  do 
not  know  how  the  town  manages  to  exist.  There  is  a 
railway  station,  but  it  is  a  mile  away  and  it  is  only 
incidental  and  placed  on  the  line  to  Evesham  and 
Worcester.  No  great  genius  was  ever  born  at  Campden, 
or  if  he  was,  he  missed  fire  and  perished  unknown. 
Therefore  it  is  not  a  place  of  pilgrimage,  and  only  parties 
of  architectural  students,  measuring  up  or  sketching 
some  of  the  charming  bits  with  which  it  abounds ;  or 
artists,  or  contemplative  ruminative  folk  who  want  to 
escape  from  the  eternal  hustle  of  this  age  and  its  devilish 
gospel  of  "  get  on  or  get  out  "  ever  go  there.  "  Past  " 
is  traced  over  its  every  building.  "  There  was  a  time  " 
might  be  inscribed  over  the  open-sided  and  quaintly- 
colonnaded  market-house  ;  and  "  Yesterday  "  should 
be  the  town  motto.  There  are  little  courts  off  the 
main  street  where  the  leisured  explorer  in  Campden  will 

175 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

find  remains  of  the  old  wool  warehouses,  with  here  and 
there  a  traceried  Gothic  window.  Many  old  sundials 
still  exist  on  the  walls  ;  in  particular  a  charming  example 
near  the  market-house  with  the  initials  W.  S.  T.  and 
date  1690;  and  dated  house-tablets  show  with  what 
pride  the  old  inhabitants  looked  upon  their  homes. 

But  the  pride  of  all  the  ancient  houses  of  Campden  is 
that  house  where  William  Grevel  lived  in  the  fourteenth 
century.  It  is  not  a  very  large  house,  one  thinks,  for 
so  wealthy  a  man  as  he  was,  described  as  he  is  on  the 
brass  in  the  church  as  "  the  flower  of  the  wool -merchants 
of  all  England,"  but  it  presents  a  charming  frontage  to 
the  street  and  has  an  oriel  window  of  peculiar  beauty, 
presided  over  by  two  huge  and  hideous  gargoyles,  the 
one  representing  a  winged,  bat-like  monster  with  gaping 
mouth  and  a  ferocious  expression ;  the  other  a  kind  of 
demon  dog  with  glaring  eyes  of  intense  malignity^ — the 
late  Mr.  William  Grevel's  familiar  spirits,  perhaps. 

Every  one  well-read  in  the  history  of  his  country  knows 
that  the  ranks  of  its  aristocracy  and  its  peerage  have 
constantly  been  reinforced  from  the  trading  classes.  It 
is  a  matter  of  money.  Wlien  a  man  has  great  posses- 
sions he  finds  the  House  of  Lords  waiting  to  receive  him. 
It  has  been  so  for  centuries,  and  not  only  so,  but  the 
ennobled  have  in  their  own  later  generations  given 
younger  sons  to  trade.  The  different  processes  are  still 
seen  working;  and  why  not  ?  Wealth  will  secure 
consideration,  and  younger  sons  who  cannot  always 
marry  money  must  in  their  turn  go  into  trade  and 
make  it. 

The  old  wool-merchants  and  clothiers  often  rose  to 
the  peerage  on  their  own  account,  or  married  their  sons 
and  daughters  into  its  ranks.  William  Grevel,  who 
was  a  descendant  of  other  mercantile  Grevels,  never 
became  more  than  a  wealthy  trader.     As  such  he  died 

176 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

in  1401,  and  it  was  not  until  just  over  two  centuries 
had  passed  that  his  descendant,  Fulke  Greville,  entered 
the  Hsts  of  the  coroneted  as  Baron  Brooke ;  the  eighth 
Baron  Brooke  not  becoming  Earl  of  Warwick  until 
1759.  The  Grevels — or  "  Grevilles,"  as  they  afterwards 
spelt  their  name — therefore  only  belatedly  won  to  that 
haven  where  they  would  be  ;  but  most  others  were  more 
fortunate.  Baptist  Hicks,  for  example,  is  an  extra- 
ordinary instance  of  swift  accumulation  of  wealth.  He, 
however,  made  it  in  London,  as  a  mercer  and  perhaps  a 
good  deal  more  as  a  moneylender.  He  lent  money  to 
James  the  First  among  others,  and  became  so  warm  a 
man  that  he  returned  in  1609  to  his  native  Gloucester- 
shire and  purchased  the  manor  of  Campden,  building  a 
magnificent  country  seat  next  the  church.  The  cost  of 
this  was  £29,000  :  over  £200,000  according  to  present 
value.  He  had  so  much  money  and  so  fine  a  house  that 
he,  being  already  a  Knight,  was  in  1628  created  a 
Viscount.  He  died  the  following  year,  not  like  Tenny- 
son's Countess  of  Burleigh,  because  of  the  weight  of  an 
honour  to  which  he  had  not  been  born,  but  by  reason  of 
age  and  possibly  chagrin  that  he  had  not  been  created 
an  Earl. 

He  was  a  benefactor  to  Campden,  and  built  the  charm- 
ing group  of  almshouses  that  stand  on  the  left-hand  on 
the  way  to  the  church. 

Past  these  almshouses,  the  way  goes  directly  to  the 
church,  a  noble  building  of  date  somewhere  about  1530. 
It  owes  its  present  stately  proportions  and  Perpendicular 
style  largely  to  the  benefactions  of  Grevel  and  others. 
The  tower  is  remarkable  for  a  buttress  which  is  in  some 
ways  a  kind  of  highly-developed  mullion  running  through 
the  centre  of  the  window  of  the  lower  stage.  It  is 
perhaps  rather  more  curious  than  beautiful,  and  as  it 
cannot  be  of  any  constructional  value   and  adds  little 

178 


THE    SHIRT-STEALERS 

if  anything  to  the  stabihty  of  the  tower,  we  can  only 
regard  it  as  one  of  those  freaks  of  the  last  phase  of 
Gothic  architecture  which  tell  us,  if  we  have  but  the  wit 
to  understand,  that.  Reformation  or  no  Reformation; 
with  Henry  the  Eighth  or  without,  the  Gothic  spirit 
was  dying. 

The  curious  ogee-shaped  roof  of  a  building  seen  in  the 
foreground  of  the  accompanying  view  of  the  church  is 
that  of  a  garden-pavilion,  or  gazebo,  of  Campden  House, 
the  lordly  mansion  built  in  1613  by  Sir  Baptist  Hicks, 
first  Viscount  Campden,  I  have  seen  curious  old 
illustrations  of  this  fine  house,  by  which  it  would  seem 
to  have  been  a  place  of  extraordinary  grandeur.  It 
is  said  to  have  been  the  largest  house  ever  built  in 
England,  and  stood  upon  eight  acres  of  ground.  This 
truly  extensive  mansion  existed  no  longer  than  thirty- 
two  years,  for  it  was  burnt  by  order  of  Prince  Rupert 
in  1645.  During  that  time  of  civil  war  Campden  House 
had  been  a  notable  rallying-place  for  the  Royalists,  who 
under  a  rough  soldier.  Sir  Henry  Bard,  had  made  them- 
selves a  pestilent  nuisance,  not  only  to  their  natural 
enemies,  but  even  to  sympathisers.  If  they  needed 
anything  in  the  way  of  food,  forage,  or  apparel,  they 
took  it  where  it  was  to  be  found,  whether  from  Round- 
head or  Royalist.  They  raped  the  very  clothes  off 
the  country  people's  backs.  "  A  man,"  says  one  of 
these  lamenting  rustics,  "  need  keep  a  tight  hold  of  his 
very  breeches,  or  'tis  odds  but  what  these  Sabines  will 
have  them,  and  if  he  is  let  keep  his  shirt,  it  is  thought 
a  matter  of  grace."  So  it  was  not  altogether  regretfully 
that  they  saw  Bard  and  his  brigands  depart  while  there 
remained  one  of  those  indispensable  articles,  or  a  hat,  or 
pair  of  shoes  in  the  neighbourhood.  When  the  garrison 
left,  they  fired  the  mansion.  It  was  never  rebuilt,  and 
to  this  day  its  ruins  stand  to  keep  the  tale  in  mind. 

N2  179 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

That  the  church  was  rebuilt  in  the  very  last  years  of 
the  Late  Perpendicular  style  is  more  and  more  evident 
as  you  approach  and  examine  it.  William  Grevel  in 
1401  left  a  hundred  marks  towards  the  work,  and  you 
will  be  told  locally  that  the  present  building  is  the  result 
of  that  gift.  But  not  very  much  could  have  been  done 
with  such  a  sum,  and  in  any  event,  the  fabric  is  distinctly 
and  unmistakably  over  a  hundred  years  later  in  date. 
The  ogee  pinnacles  and  mouldings,  and  especially  the 
flattened  arches  of  the  nave-arcade  tell  their  archi- 
tectural tale  in  a  way  that  cannot  be  gainsaid. 

On  the  floor  of  the  chancel  is  the  fine  brass  to  William 
Grevel,  1401,  and  Marion,  his  wife,  1386.  It  is,  with  its 
canopied  work,  eight  feet  nine  inches  high ;  the  figure  of 
Grevel  himself  being  five  feet  four  inches.  We  see  him 
habited  in  the  merchant's  dress  of  his  period,  and  with 
the  forked  beard  that  was  then  the  usual  wear  of  the 
elderly  among  his  class,  as  Chaucer  says,  in  his  Canterbury 
Tales:  "A  marchant  was  there  with  a  forked  beard." 

Other  brasses  are  to  William  Welley,  merchant,  1450, 
and  wife  Alice;  John  Lethenard,  merchant,  1467,  and 
his  wife  Joan;  and  William  Gybbys,  1484,  with  his 
three  wives,  Alice,  Margaret  and  Marion,  and  seven 
sons  and  six  daughters. 

The  stately  monument  of  Baptist  Hicks,  first  Viscount 
Campden,  and  his  wife  occupies  the  south  chancel  chapel. 
It  is  one  of  the  works  of  Nicholas  Stone  and  his  sons, 
whose  extraordinarily  fine  craftsmanship  as  sculptors 
and  designers  of  monuments  in  the  seventeenth  century 
redeemed  to  a  great  extent  the  rather  vulgar  ostentation 
which  marked  in  general  the  neo-classic  style  of  the  age. 
The  monument  takes  up  nearly  all  the  floor  space  and 
rises  to  a  great  height.  Beneath  a  canopy  formed  by 
it  rest  the  recumbent  marble  effigies  of  that  ennobled 
wool-merchant  and  sometime  Lord  Mayor  of  London, 

180 


VISCOUNT   CAMPDEN 

and  his  wife,  habited  in  the  robes  of  their  rank,  and  with 
coronets  on  their  heads.  They  are  impressive  in  a  very 
high  degree.  A  long  Latin  inscription  narrates  his  good 
deeds  and  expatiates  upon  the  good  fortune  of  Campden 
which  benefited  by  them. 

It  is  not  easy  to  excuse  the  deplorable  taste  which 
produced  the  large  monument  against  the  wall  to  Edward 
Noel,  2nd  Viscount  Campden,  who  died  1642,  and  his 
widow,  Juliana,  1680.  We  would  like  to  believe  that 
the  idea  of  it  was  none  of  Nicholas  Stone's,  but  was 
dictated  by  the  mortuary  grief  of  that  thirty-eight 
years'  long  widow,  who  no  doubt  found  great  satisfaction 
and  consolation  in  coming  every  now  and  then  to  open 
its  doors  and  look  at  the  gruesome  white  marble  figures, 
larger  than  life,  of  herself  and  her  husband,  representing 
them  standing  hand  in  hand,  in  their  shrouds.  They 
remind  one  very  vividly  of  the  lines  in  Ruddigore — 

"  And  then  the  ghost  and  his  lady  toast 
To  their  churchyard  beds  take  flight. 
With  a  kiss  perhaps  on  her  lantern  chaps 
And  a  grisly,  grim  '  Good-night ! '  " 

The  visitor  to  Campden  church  is  told  that  the  black 
marble  doors  disclosing  these  figures  and  now  fixed 
permanently  open,  against  the  wall,  were  generally  closed 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  widow,  and  were  opened  at  her 
decease.  The  long  epitaphs  tell  us  in  detail  about  her, 
her  husband,  and  her  family.  On  the  left-hand  is  that 
to  the  husband — 

"  This  monument  is  erected  to  preserve  the  memory 
and  pourtrait  of  the  Right  Honourable  Sr.  Edward  Noel, 
Viscount  Campden,  Baron  Noel  of  Ridlington  and  Hicks 
of  Ilmington.  He  was  Knight  Banneret  in  the  warrs  of 
Ireland,  being  young,  and  then  created  Baronet  anno 
1611.  He  was  afterwards  made  Baron  of  Ridlington.  The 
other  titles  came  unto  him  by  right  of  Dame  Juliana, 

181 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

his  wife,  who  stands  collaterall  to  him  in  this  monument, 
a  lady  of  extraordinary  great  endowments,  both  of 
vertue  and  fortune.  This  goodly  lord  died  at  Oxford 
at  ye  beginning  of  the  late  fatall  civil  warrs,  whither  he 
went  to  serve  and  assist  his  sovverain  Prince  Charles 
the  First,  and  so  was  exalted  to  the  Kingdom  of  Glory, 
8°  Martii  1642." 

The  right  hand  door  is  inscribed  with  the  lady's  own 
description,  and  of  her  children's  fortunes — 

"  The  Lady  Juliana,  eldest  daughter  and  co-heire  (of 
that  mirror  of  his  time)  Sr.  Baptist  Hicks,  Viscount 
Campden.  She  was  married  to  that  noble  Lord  who  is 
here  engraven  by  her,  by  whom  she  had  Baptist,  Lord 
Viscount  Campden,  now  living  (who  is  blessed  with  a 
numerous  and  gallant  issue).  Henry,  her  second  son, 
died  a  prisoner  for  his  loyalty  to  his  Prince.  Her  eldest 
daughter,  Elizabeth,  was  married  to  John  Viscount 
Chaworth  :  Mary,  her  second  daughter,  to  the  very 
noble  Knight,  Sr  Erasmus  de  la  Fontaine.  Penelope, 
her  youngest  daughter,  died  a  mayd. 

"  This  excellent  lady,  for  the  pious  and  unparallel'd 
affections  she  retained  to  the  memory  of  her  deceased 
lord,  caused  this  stately  monument  to  be  erected  in 
her  lifetime,  in  September  Anno  Dom.  1664." 

A  very  charming  mural  monument  to  the  Lady 
Penelope  shows  a  delicately-sculptured  bust.  She  is  seen 
wearing  a  dress  with  deep  Vandyck  lace  collar.  As  with 
the  other  monuments,  it  is  clearly  from  the  hands  of 
the  Stone  family.  The  Lady  Penelope,  who  died  young 
in  1633,  is  traditionally  said  to  have  died  from  the 
effects  of  pricking  her  finger  when  working  in  coloured 
silks.  The  position  of  the  hand  is  said  to  be  in  allusion 
to  the  accident.  A  companion  figure  is  that  to  the 
Lady  Anne  Noel,  wife  of  the  Lady  Penelope's  brother, 
Baptist.     She  died  1636. 

182 


THE   'CAMPDEN  WONDER' 

The  "  Campden  Wonder,"  at  which  people  in  1662 
marvelled,  is  still  an  unsolved  mystery,  and  ever  likely 
to  remain  so.  The  story  of  it  began  in  1660,  on  August 
16th,  when  William  Harrison,  a  staid  elderly  man  of 
about  sixty  years,  who  had  been  trusted  for  many  years 
as  the  steward  of  the  widowed  Juliana,  Viscountess 
Campden,  went  to  Charingworth,  three  miles  away,  to 
collect  some  rents.  When  night  had  come  and  he  had 
not  returned,  his  wife  sent  a  servant,  John  Perry,  in 
search.  By  morning,  when  he  too  had  not  come  back, 
IMrs.  Harrison  grew  more  alarmed  and  sent  her  son, 
Edward,  who  met  Perry  returning,  without  having  seen 
anything  of  his  master.  Young  Harrison  persuaded  the 
man  to  go  to  Ebrington  with  him  and  to  raise  further 
inquiries.  There  they  heard  that  William  Harrison 
had  called  the  evening  before  and  rested,  and  that  he 
had  then  left.     He  had  then  about  £23  on  him. 

On  their  way  back  to  Campden,  young  Harrison  and 
Perry  met  a  woman  who  handed  them  a  bloodstained 
comb  and  band  which  that  morning  she  had  found  in 
the  furze  on  the  road  between  Ebrington  and  Charing- 
worth. They  were  those  of  the  missing  man,  but  of  him 
no  trace  could  be  found.  It  did  not  take  long  to  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  Perry  must  have  had  a  hand  in  his 
master's  disappearance,  and  he  was  arrested  on  suspicion 
of  murder.  He  had  told  so  many  contradictory  tales 
that  he  was  rightly  suspected,  and  after  a  week's  im- 
prisonment he  had  yet  another  story.  He  now  "  con- 
fessed "  that  his  mother,  Joan  Perry,  and  his  brother 
Richard  had  long  urged  him  to  rob  his  master,  and  that 
at  last  they  had  on  this  occasion  waylaid  and  robbed  him, 
afterwards  strangling  him  and  throwing  the  body  into 
the  great  mill-sink  of  the  neighbouring  Wallington's  Mill. 
The  comb  and  band  had  been  put  on  the  road  by  himself. 

John  Perry's  mother  and  brother  were  accordingly 

183 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

arrested  and  the  three  were  tried  at  Gloucester  and 
convicted,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  no  body  had 
been  found,  and  in  spite  of  the  piteous  protestations  of 
innocence  by  Joan  Perry  and  Richard,  and  in  face  of  the 
avowal  by  John  that  he  must  have  been  mad  when  he 
"confessed."  He  now  declared  he  knew  nothing  of 
Harrison's  death;  but  in  spite  of  all  these  doubts,  the 
three  were  executed,  on  Broadway  Hill.  Joan  was 
hanged  first,  and  Robert  next,  John  calmly  saw  them 
die  and  listened  to  their  last  appeals  to  him  to  confess 
and  to  exonerate  them.  He  was  hanged  last,  protesting 
that  he  had  never  known  anything  of  his  master's  death, 
or  even  if  he  were  dead.  But,  he  added,  they  might 
hereafter  possibly  hear. 

The  countryside  congratulated  itself  upon  being  rid 
of  three  undesirables.  The  old  woman  had  always  been 
reputed  a  witch.  And  when  the  affair  was  becoming  a 
stale  and  exhausted  topic,  one  autumn  evening  at  dusk, 
two  years  later,  Mr.  William  Harrison,  for  whose  murder 
three  persons  had  been  convicted  and  hanged,  returned 
and  walked  into  his  own  house. 

He  gave  forth  an  ingenious  but  preposterous  story  to 
account  for  his  two  years'  absence.  As  he  was  returning 
home,  he  said,  on  the  evening  of  his  disappearance,  he 
was  intercepted  by  three  horsemen  who  attacked, 
wounded  and  robbed  him,  and  carrying  him  to  a  neigh- 
bouring cottage  on  the  heath,  nursed  him  there  until 
it  was  possible  to  carry  him  across  country  to  Dover, 
where  they  put  him  aboard  a  vessel  and  sold  him  to  the 
captain,  who  had  several  others  in  like  case  with  himself 
on  his  ship.  They  voyaged  from  Deal  and  after  about 
six  weeks'  sail  they  were  seized  by  Turkish  pirates  and 
he  and  the  others  were  put  aboard  the  Turkish  ship  and 
sold  as  slaves  in  Turkey.  His  master  lived  near  Smyrna. 
After  serving  him  as  a  slave  for  nearly  two  years,  the 

184 


BKASS    TO    WII.MAM    GREVEL    AND    WIFE,    CHITl'ING    (AMI-HEN. 

[To  face  p.  1S4 


THE   'CAMPDEN  WONDER' 

elderly  Turk  died  and  the  slave  escaped  to  the  coast, 
where  he  persuaded  some  Hamburg  sailors  to  take  him 
as  a  stowaway  to  Lisbon.  There  he  met  an  Englishman 
who  took  compassion  upon  him  and  found  him  a  passage 
to  England.  Landing  at  Dover,  he  made  his  way  directly 
home. 

This  cock-and-bull  story  was  all  that  the  country  ever 
had  in  the  way  of  satisfaction.  Harrison  went  about  his 
steward's  business  as  before,  trusted  and  respected,  and 
died  ten  years  later.  In  after  years  some  suspicion  seems 
to  have  fallen  upon  the  son,  but  for  what  reason  does 
not  appear.  That  industrious  Oxford  diarist,  Anthony 
Wood,  who  took  a  keen  interest  in  the  affair,  as  did  all 
the  country,  says,  "  After  Harrison's  returne,  John  was 
taken  down  [from  his  gibbet]  and  Harrison's  wife 
soon  after  (being  a  snotty  covetous  presbyterian) 
hung  herself  in  her  owne  house.  Why,  the  reader  is  to 
judge." 

In  leaving  Campden  and  its  memories,  I  must  not  let 
it  be  supposed  that  in  speaking  of  the  town  as  decayed 
and  belonging  to  the  past  I  either  intend  to  slight  it  or 
forget  the  Guild  of  Handicraft  established  here  in  1892. 
Removed  from  London  in  that  year,  it  has  sought  to 
bring  back  in  these  more  and  more  commercial  and 
factory  times  the  craftsman's  old  traditions  of  artistic 
and  individual  work,  no  matter  in  what  trade.  In 
printing,  bookbinding,  enamel- work,  jewellery  and 
cabinet-making  it  has  sought  by  precept  and  example 
to  further  the  teachings  of  Ruskin  and  Morris,  and  has 
created  a  new  feeling  here  and  elsewhere  which  has 
effects  in  places  little  suspected. 


185 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

A   Deserted    Railway — Villages   of  the   Stour   Valley — Ettington   and 
Squire  Shirley — Shipston-on-Stour — Brailes — Comptou  Wyiiyates. 

There  is  not  an  uninteresting  road  among  the  eight  that 
lead  out  of  Stratford,  and  all  are  beautiful.  But  none 
has  more  beauty  than  that  which  runs  southward  to 
Shipston-on-Stour.  This  way,  or  by  the  route  leading 
through  Ettington  and  Sunrising  Hill,  you  go  to  Comp- 
ton  Wynyates,  that  wonderfully  picturesque  old  mansion 
of  the  Comptons,  Marquises  of  Northampton,  which  has 
remained  unaltered  for  centuries  in  its  remoteness,  and 
is  still  not  easily  accessible.  The  Shipston  road  then, 
for  choice,  to  Compton  Wynyates.  It  follows,  more  or 
less  closely  the  valley  of  the  Stour,  and  here  and  there 
touches  the  river ;  while  companionably,  all  the  way 
run  the  grass-grown  cuttings  and  embankments  of  that 
long-abandoned  Stratford  and  Shipston  Tramway  whose 
red  brick  bridge  is  a  feature  of  the  Avon  at  Stratford 
town. 

The  deserted  earthworks  and  ivy-grown  bridges  of 
this  forgotten  undertaking,  now  this  side  of  the  road  and 
then  the  other,  excite  the  curiosity  of  the  stranger,  but 
he  will  rarely  find  anyone  to  tell  him  the  meaning  of  them, 
and  at  the  best  only  vaguely.  Their  story  is  one  of 
unfulfilled  hopes  and  money  flung  ruinously  away ;  for 
they  are  the  only  traces  of  the  Central  Junction  Railway 
projected  in  1820,  to  run  through  to  Oxford  and  London. 
It  was  a  horsed  tramway,  and  was  opened  through 
Shipston    to    Moreton-in-the-Marsh    in.    1826.     A     re- 

186 


THE   'OLD   WORSE   AND   WORSE' 

munerative  traffic  in  general  agricultural  produce  and 
goods  was  expected,  but  the  enterprise  seems  to  have 
been  weighted  from  the  beginning  with  the  heavy 
expenses  of  construction.  Estimated  by  Telford  at 
£35,000  for  the  Stratford-on-Avon  to  Moreton  section, 
they  soon  reached  £80,000.  But  the  doom  of  the 
project  was  sounded  by  the  introduction  of  the  loco- 
motive engine,  almost  simultaneously  with  the  opening. 
In  1845  it  was  leased  to  the  Oxford,  Worcester  and 
Wolverhampton  Railway,  a  scandalously  inefficient  line 
whose  initials,  "  O.  W.  W."  suggested  to  saturnine  wags 
the  appropriate  name  of  "  Old  Worse  and  Worse." 
This  ill-managed  affair  was  eventually  absorbed  into 
the  Great  Western  Railway,  which  now  owns  these 
relics. 

Little  villages  are  thickly  set  along  the  course  of 
the  Stour,  to  the  right  of  the  road ;  ancient  settlements, 
each  but  a  slightly  larger  or  smaller  collection  of  farm- 
houses, barns  and  thatched  cottages,  with  a  church  in 
their  midst.  Here  the  Saxon  farmers  came  and  early 
cultivated  the  rich  meadow-lands,  leaving  the  poorer 
uplands  long  unenclosed  and  untilled ;  and  to  every 
little  community  came  the  clergy  and  set  up  a  church 
and  tithed  those  farmers  who  earned  their  livelihood 
by  the  sweat  of  their  brows.  Such  a  village  is  Atherstone- 
upon-Stour,  where  a  majestic  red  brick  farmhouse, 
dating  from  the  seventeenth  century,  neighbours  a 
debased  little  church.  There  is  little  of  interest  in  that 
church,  and  the  loathly  epitaph  to  William  Thomas,  a 
son  of  the  rector,  who  died  in  1710,  aged  nine,  of  small- 
pox, decently  veils  in  the  obscurity  of  eighteenth 
century  pedagogic  Latin  the  full  particulars  given  of  his 
disease. 

A  rather  larger  village  is  Preston-upon-Stour,  reached 
from  the  highway  after  passing  the  lovely  elm  avenues 

187 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

of  Alscot  Park.  Thatched  cottages  looking  upon  an 
upland  green,  with  village  church  presiding  over  it,  are 
the  note  of  Preston.  Tall  stone  gate-piers  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  with  fine  wrought-iron  gates,  give 
entrance  to  the  churchyard.  The  interior  of  the  church 
is,  however,  a  very  shocking  example  of  the  eighteenth- 
century  way  with  Gothic  buildings. 

Smaller  than  any  of  these  places  by  the  lovely  little 
Stour  is  Whitchurch,  just  before  the  larger  village  of 
Alderminster.  It  lies  off  to  the  right,  not  often  troubled 
by  the  stranger.  The  place-name  is  thought  to 
derive  from  a  supposed  former  dedication  of  the 
church  to  St.  Candida,  or  Wita.  "  Alderminster  " 
means  probably  "  the  alderman's  town,"  the  property 
in  Saxon  times  of  some  wealthy  landowner,  and  has 
no  ecclesiastical  associations  or  monastic  history  that 
would  account  for  the  "  minster  "  in  the  place-name. 

The  road  grows  extremely  beautiful  at  the  crossing 
of  the  Stour  by  Ettington  Park  and  the  approach  to 
Newbold.  Here,  where  a  by-road  to  Grimscote  goes 
off  on  the  right,  an  ornate  pillar  standing  on  the  grass 
serves  the  purpose  of  a  milestone  and  bears  the  sculp- 
tured arms — the  gold  and  black  pales  (heraldically 
paly  of  six,  or  and  sable) — of  a  former  owner  of  Ettington 
Park,  generally  spoken  of  in  the  neighbourhood  as 
"  wold  Squire  Shirley,  what  lived  yur  tharty  yur  agoo." 
It  was  in  1871  that  he  erected  this  elaborate  stone  which 
I  think  must  be  the  only  poetical  milestone  in  England. 
It  is  not  great  poetry,  and  there  is  not  much  of  it ;  but 
it  shows  the  immense  possibilities  of  wayside  entertain- 
ment, if  all  its  fellows  were  made  to  burst  into  song — 

"  6  miles 
To  Shakespeare's  Town,  wliose  name 

Is  known  throughout  the  earth  ; 
To  Shipston  4,  whose  lesser  fame 

Boasts  no  such  poet's  birth." 

188 


A  POET-SQUIRE 

You  will  see  here  that  my  own  notion,  earlier  in  these 
chaste  pages,  of  re-naming  the  town  "  Shakespeare-on- 
Avon  "  germinated,  however  unconsciously,  in  "  wold 
Squire  Shirley's  "  brain,  over  forty  years  since. 

But  this  is  not  all.  Two  Latin  and  English  verses  are 
added  to  the  tale  of  it — 

"  Crux  mea  lux^ 
After  darkness  light. 
From  liglit  hope  flows. 
And  peace  in  death. 
In  Christ  is  sure  repose. 

Spes  1871- 
Post  obitum  Sal  us. 
In  obitu  Pax 
In  hue  Spes 
Post  tenebras  lux." 

The  shields  of  arms  include  the  nine  roundels  of  the 
see  of  Worcester,  and  a  further  shield  of  the  Shirley 
arms,  with  a  canton  ermine. 

This  poetical  squire  was  Mr.  Evelyn  Philip  Shirley, 
kinsman  of  Earl  Ferrers.  He  refronted  his  house  at 
Ettington  Park,  and  indulged  himself  fully  in  that 
elaborate  mansion  in  the  verse  he  loved  so  well  and 
composed  so  ill.  In  the  hall  still  remains  the  shield 
of  arms  he  set  up  there,  displaying  these  same  alternate 
black  and  gold  stripes  which  come  down  from  the  times 
of  Sewallis,  and  beneath  it  another  of  his  compositions — 

"  These  be  the  pales  of  black  and  gold 
The  which  Sewallis  bore  of  old  ; 
And  this  the  coat  which  his  true  heirs 
The  ancient  house  of  Sliirley  bears." 

Ettington  Park  is  now  without  a  tenant  and  is,  I  believe, 
to  be  sold.  Thus  passes  the  pride  of  this  branch  of  the 
Shirleys. 

It  is  a  lovely  park  and  a  stately  house,  with  the  ivied 
ruins  of  the  ancient  church  adjoining,  including  the 
tombs  and  effigies  of  older  Shirleys  and  others  who  would 

189 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

make  excellent  ancestors  for  any  enterprising  purchaser. 
"  I  don't  know  whose  ancestors  they  were,"  says  the 
Major-General  in  the  Pirates  of  Penzance,  of  the 
monuments  in  the  ruined  chapel  on  the  estate  he  has 
bought,  "  but  I  know  whose  they  are." 

The  Squire,  besides  his  activities  in  the  way  of  bad 
rhymes,  stumbling  metres,  and  obvious  moral  senti- 
ments, was  an  antiquary,  and  keen  to  alter  the  spelling 
of  the  place-name  "  Eatington  "  to  "  Ettington,"  on 
the  coming  of  the  railway  in  1873.  He  showed  that  it 
is  "  Etendone  "  in  Domesday  Book,  and  that  Dugdale, 
the  historian  of  Warwickshire,  was  the  first  to  spell  it 
Eatington  in  1656.  But  Dugdale,  who  knew  the  name 
derived  from  the  watery  situation  of  the  place,  was  right, 
and  Domesday  wrong,  as  it  very  often  is  in  these  matters, 
the  Norman-French  compilers  of  it  not  being  at  all 
well-equipped  for  rendering  the,  to  them,  alien  names 
correctly. 

Passing  pretty  scenes  at  Newbold-on-Stour,  the 
road  bears  away  from  the  river  and  touches  it  again  at 
the  equally  pretty  village  of  Tredington.  The  spire 
of  Honington  is  then  seen  on  the  left,  and  Shipston-on- 
Stour  is  entered.  There  is  a  railway  station  at  Shipston, 
the  terminus  of  a  little  branch  line  from  Moreton-in- 
the-Marsh.  Wlien  the  railway  reached  so  far  it  ex- 
hausted all  its  energies  and  could  do  no  more.  It  might 
be  supposed,  from  the  efforts  to  reach  Shipston  by  rail, 
that  it  was  an  important  place,  whose  traffic  was  well 
worth  securing — perhaps  even,  from  its  name,  a  port ; 
but  it  is  long  since  this  old  market -town  was  a  place  of 
any  commercial  value,  and  no  ships  ever  sailed  the  little 
Stour.  They  were  sheep,  not  ships,  that  gave  Shipston 
its  name,  and  it  first  appears  in  history,  nine  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago,  as  "  Scepewasce  " ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  place  where  the  sheep  were  washed  in  those  Saxon 

190 


COMPTON  WYNYATES 

times.  It  was  written  "  Scepwaesctun  "  in  1006,  and 
is  "  Scepwestun  "  in  Domesday;  i.e.  the  Sheepwash 
Town. 

To  Brailes,  over  two  miles  from  Shipston,  the  road 
rises,  commanding  views  down  upon  the  left  over  "  the 
Feldon,"  as  the  district  between  this  and  Stratford-on- 
Avon  is  known;  that  clearing  in  the  ancient  Forest  of 
Arden  which  is  by  no  means  so  bare  of  timber  as  might 
be  supposed,  and  itself  indeed  looks  from  this  height 
very  like  a  forest.  At  Brailes  is  the  parish  church, 
proudly  styled  the  "  Cathedral  of  the  Feldon."  It  is 
large,  its  tower  is  lofty,  rising  to  a  hundred  and  twenty 
feet,  and  it  stands  in  a  prominent  position.  Its  Perpen- 
dicular architecture  is  good,  too,  but  there  is  nothing, 
internally,  of  a  cathedral  about  it. 

At  the  "  George  "  inn,  Brailes,  the  traveller  to  Comp- 
ton  Wynyates  will  do  well  to  refresh  himself  before  he 
proceeds  further,  for  not  only  has  he  come  far,  but  when 
he,  has  threaded  the  steep  and  winding  lanes  beyond 
which  that  romantic  manor-house  of  the  Comptons 
lies  in  its  deep,  cup-like  hollow,  he  will  need  something 
wherewith  to  fortify  his  energies,  especially  as  it  is 
extremely  likely  he  will  lose  himself  on  the  way,  and  as 
there  is  no  likelihood  of  his  being  able  to  refresh  himself 
when  there.  Romance,  lovely  scenery,  and  picturesque 
architectural  grouping  are  not  well  seen  when  fasting. 

"  Wynyates  "  is  a  puzzling  word,  which  may  mean 
"  Vineyards  "  or  "  Windgates  "  :  the  fii'st  for  choice. 
The  place,  let  it  be  impressed  upon  the  stranger,  is  a 
house,  not  a  village  ;  although,  looking  sheerly  down  upon 
the  hollow  where  its  crowded  gables  and  many  clustered 
chimneys  are  seen,  with  its  adjoining  church,  a  village 
it  might  appear  to  be.  There  was  once,  indeed,  such  a 
place,  but  it  disappeared  so  long  ago  that  no  one  can  tell 
us  anything  about  it,  and  its  church,  which  stood  upon 

191 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN   SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

the  site  of  the  present  building,  was  battered  to  pieces 
and  "  totally  reduced  to  rubbish,"  as  Dugdale  tells  us, 
during  the  siege  of  the  mansion  in  1644. 

Thus  the  Comptons,  Marquises  of  Northampton,  have 
the  place  all  to  themselves.  And  it  is  very  likely  that 
the  explorer  also  will  have  Compton  Wynyates  to 
himself,  for  this  is  but  one  of  the  residences  of  that  noble 
family,  whose  chief  seat  is  at  Castle  Ashby,  away  in 
Northamptonshire,  and  it  is  occupied  for  only  a  short 
interval  in  every  year.  By  an  admirable  generosity  and 
courtesy  the  stranger  may  generally  be  assured  of 
permission  to  see  the  interior  of  the  mansion,  a  privilege 
very  well  worth  exercising. 

Sir  William  Compton,  the  builder  of  Compton  Wyn- 
yates, was  the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of  obscure 
squires  who  had  been  settled  here  for  centuries.  He 
owed  his  advancement  in  life  to  being  brought  up  with 
Henry  the  Eighth,  who  cherished  an  affection  for  him 
and  gave  his  friend  the  Castle  of  Fulbrook,  which  was 
situated  between  Stratford-on-Avon  and  Warwick. 
Sir  William  Compton  did  a  singular  thing  with  the  gift. 
He  pulled  it  down  and  transported  the  materials  by  pack- 
horse  or  mule-train  the  dozen  miles  or  so  across  country 
to  this  secluded  hollow,  and  with  them  built  the  charming 
house  we  now  see.  Fulbrook  Castle,  it  would  thus  appear, 
was  less  of  a  castle  than  a  slightly  embattled  manor- 
house,  built  of  red  brick,  with  tall  moulded  chimney 
stacks,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Sixth.  It  had  been 
in  existence  only  some  eighty  years.  Its  chimneys, 
according  to  tradition,  were  taken  whole,  the  mortar 
being  so  strong  that  the  bricks  could  not  be  separated. 
Thus  the  singularity  of  a  brick  house  in  a  stone  district 
is  explained. 

It  is  red  brick  such  as  |hat  of  Hampton  Court  :  a 
lovely  mellow  red,   further  toned  by  more  than  four 

192 


.i^M,^«Jb 


COM  1»  TON   WYN  VATl  :S 

luindrcd  and  lifty  years.  Tlic  remains  of  a  nu)at,  and 
sonic  beanlil'id  oardt>ns,  lorni  an  cx(|nisitc  seltino-. 
Little  has  ever  been  done  to  alter  the  mansion.  It  is 
l)uilt  aronnd  a  quadrani^le.  anil  is  entered  hy  the  orioinal 
brick  porch  with  the  Koyal  arms  of  the  Tndor  periotl 
above.  Within  is  the  Circat  Hall,  panelled  in  oak,  with 
tinil)ered  roof  and  minstrel-oallery.  The  adjoininj]; 
dining-room,  oak-})anclled  and  with  richly-decorated 
plaster  ceilino-.  displaymg  the  heraldic  devices  of  the 
C'omptons,  is  next  the  domestic  chaj)el.  On  the  Iloor 
above  arc  the  withdrawing-rooms  ct)nnnunicating  with 
the  chapel-oallcry.  Here  is  "  Henry  the  Kighth's 
Bedchamber,"  afterwards  used  by  Queen  Kli/.abeth 
when  she  visited  Henry  C'ompton.  grandson  of  Sir 
William,  in  1572,  shortly  alter  creating  liim  Baron 
Compton.  His  son  William  is  the  hero  of  that  Compton 
romance  which  brought  the  family  great  wealth.  He 
fell  inlove  with  the  daughterand  heiressof  the  enormously 
rich  Sir  John  Spencer,  alderman  of  London,  but  the 
father  did  not  approve  of  it  and  refused  to  allow  his 
daughter  to  hold  any  converse  w'ith  her  lover,  who  then 
had  rccoiu'sc  to  an  ingenious  strategem.  He  enlisted 
the  Spencer's  family  baker  upon  his  side,  bri[)ing  him 
to  be  allowed  to  carry  the  domestic  bread  to  the  house, 
and  duly  disguised  appeared  one  morning  with  his  load. 
He  was  so  early  that  the  alderman  gave  him  sixpence  and 
a  homily  on  the  virtues  of  diligence  and  punctuality. 
But  when  the  loaves  had  been  delivered,  the  lady 
herself  took  her  place  in  the  basket  and  was  carried 
away  in  it  and  promptly  married.  Her  father,  cheated 
of  the  better  match  he  had  looked  for,  disinherited  her, 
and  the  Spencer  AveaUh  would  have  gone  other  ways  but 
for  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  when  the  first  child  of  these 
enterprising  lovers  was  born  asked  Sir  John  Spencer  to 
be  sponsor  with  her  at  the  baptism  of  a  child  she  was 
o  193 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

interested  in,  and  to  adopt  it.  He  unsuspectingly  agreed 
and  thus  became  godfather  and  guardian  of  his  grandson, 
who  inherited  the  riches  so  nearly  lost.  The  resourceful 
lover  and  husband,  father  of  this  fortunate  boy,  Spencer 
Compton,  was  created  Earl  of  Northampton  by  James 
the  First.  Spencer,  the  second  Earl,  fought  for  King 
Charles  at  Edge  Hill,  October  23rd,  1642,  and  was  slain 
at  Hopton  Heath  the  following  March.  In  June  1644, 
the  Royalist  garrison  of  Compton  Wynyates  was  be- 
sieged, and  the  house  was  captured  in  two  days,  and  held 
throughout  the  war  by  the  Roundheads,  in  spite  of  the 
bold  moonlight  attack  in  December,  when  the  two 
brothers.  Sir  Charles  and  Sir  William  Compton,  at  the 
head  of  a  daring  party  from  Banbury,  surprised  the 
outposts,  rushed  the  drawbridge  which  then  crossed 
the  moat,  and  fought  a  long  hand  to  hand  fight  in  the 
stables,  before  they  were  driven  back. 

The  long  wooden  gallery  under  the  roof  on  one  side 
of  the  house  is  known  as  "  the  Barracks."  Here  the 
garrison  lay  during  those  times.  A  panelled  room  in 
the  tower  is  known  as  the  "  Council  Chamber."  Above 
it  is  the  "  Priest's  Room,"  apparently  at  some  time 
used  as  a  secret  chapel,  for  on  the  wooden  window-shelf 
may  be  seen  the  five  rudely-cut  crosses  for  an  altar. 

The  church  destroyed  in  the  troubles  of  the  civil  war 
was  rebuilt  in  1663  by  the  third  Earl  of  Northampton,  and 
contains  the  battered  monuments  of  Sir  William  Comp- 
ton, builder  of  the  mansion,  and  his  wife  ;  and  of  Henry, 
first  Baron  Compton ;  retrieved  from  the  moat,  into 
which,  after  being  broken  up,  they  had  been  thrown. 


194 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Luddington — A\^elford — ^V^eston-on-Avon — Cleeve  Priors — Salford 

Priors. 

The  way  from  Stratford  to  Evesham  is  a  main  road,  the 
road  through  Bidford,  that  ah'eady  described  in  the 
chapters  on  the  "  Eight  Villages,"  and  hardly  to  be 
mentioned  again  except  that  by  making  some  variations 
here  and  there,  two  or  three  villages  not  otherwise  to 
be  visited  may  be  included.  The  first  is  Luddington, 
two  and  a  half  miles  from  the  town,  on  a  duly  sign- 
posted road  to  the  left,  an  excellent  road,  although  not 
marked  so  on  the  maps.  Luddington,  besides  being  a 
village  of  one  long  row  of  old  thatched  cottages  close  to 
the  Avon,  is  of  some  mild  interest  as  being  the  place 
of  which  Thomas  Hunt,  one  of  Shakespeare's  school- 
masters, became  curate-in-charge,  and  where,  some  say, 
Shakespeare  was  married.  But  the  old  church  was 
burnt  down  many  years  ago  and  rebuilt  in  1872,  and  the 
register,  supposed  to  have  been  destroyed  at  the  same 
time,  was  long  kept  in  private  hands,  finally  disappearing 
altogether.  The  late  Mr.  C.  E.  Flower,  of  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  stated  that,  in  his  younger  days,  "  no  one  dreamed 
of  disputing  the  assertion  that  Shakespeare  was  married 
at  Luddington  old  church  " ;  and  many  others  declared 
that  they  had  seen  the  entry  in  the  book. 

The  way  through  Luddington  crosses  over  the  railway 
and  rejoins  the  main  road  half  a  mile  short  of  Binton 
station.     Welford  lies  away  to  the  left. 

Welford  is  a  kind  of  show  place  in  the  Stratford 
o  2  195 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

district.  "  Ah  !  if  you  want  to  see  a  pretty  place,  you 
should  go  to  Welford."  The  experienced  traveller  and 
amateur  of  rural  beauty  hears  this  with  a  certain  amount 
of  misgiving,  for  the  popular  suffrages  might  mean  tea- 
gardens  and  all  the  materials  towards  making  a  happy 
day  for  those  very  many  people  who  think  nature 
unadorned  to  be  a  dull  affair  at  the  best.  But  Welford 
is  quite  as  good  as  it  is  represented  to  be.  One  might 
almost  style  it  the  most  picturesque  village  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  Welford  in  the  aggregate,  but 
it  is  so  scattered  that  it  has  the  appearance  of  half  a 
dozen  hamlets.  It  is  best  reached  by  turning  off  the 
road  to  Bidford  just  short  of  Binton  railway  station. 
A  few  yards  bring  you  to  what  are  called  "  Binton 
bridges,"  across  the  Avon,  here  running  in  overgrown 
channels,  thick  with  "the  vagabond  flag,"  and  shaded 
by  willows  that  recall  the  lines  in  Hamlet — 

''  There  is  a  willow  grows  askant  the  brook 
That  sliews  his  hoar  leaves  in  the  glassy  stream." 

You  may  notice,  when  the  wind  ruffles  the  leaves  of  the 
willow,  that  the  description  is  exact;  the  underside  of 
a  willow-leaf  being  different  from  the  upper,  and  of  a 
hoary,  grey-white  tint. 

"  Binton  bridges  "  are  not,  as  might  perhaps  be 
assumed,  bridges  side  by  side,  but  are  continuations, 
across  the  two  channels  of  the  river.  Immediately 
across  them  the  sign  of  the  "  Four  Alls  "  inn  attracts 
notice.  It  is  a  picture-sign  showing  the  King,  "  I  rule 
all  " ;  a  bishop,  "  I  pray  for  all  " ;  a  guardsman,  "  I 
fight  for  all  " ;  and  a  mournful-looking  person,  seated^ 
wearing  a  suit  of  black  clothes  and  a  thoughtful  ex- 
pression of  countenance  :  "  I  pay  for  all."  It  is  a  sign 
to  be  matched  in  other  parts  of  the  country,  and  was 

196 


WELFORD 

invented  long  ago  by  some  sardonic  person  who  had 
pondered  deeply  upon  the  functions  of  the  IMonarchy, 
the  Church,  the  Army,  and  the  tax-payer.  But  he 
lacked  the  savage,  saturnine  humour  of  the  person  who 
thought  of  the  "Five  Alls,"  another  sign  not  unknown 
in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  The  Fifth  All 
being  the  Devil  :    "  I  take  all  !  " 

The  first  part  of  Welford  soon  appears,  on  the  right. 
It  might  be  styled  the  chief  part,  because  here,  among  the 
scattered  groups  of  cottages,  the  church  is  found.  The 
church  itself  is  only  mildly  interesting,  but  the  old 
lych-gate  is  a  quaint  survival,  as  weather-worn  and  rustic 
and  untouched  as  Welford  itself;  its  rude  timbers 
seamed  and  bleached  with  the  weather  of  over  four 
centuries.  Past  the  church  you  come  down  Boat  Lane 
to  the  river,  where  the  weir  can  be  heard  roaring.  There 
are  some  particularly  sketchable  cottages  in  this  lane, 
as  Avill  be  seen  by  the  illustration  over-leaf. 

Returning,  and  proceeding  southwards,  other  ancient 
thatched  cottages  are  passed,  and  then  we  come  to  the 
maypole,  doubtless  regarded  as  the  centre  of  the  village. 
It  is  still  dressed  on  May  Day  every  year,  and  stands 
here  all  the  year  on  its  mound,  a  thing  for  the  stranger 
to  wonder  at,  gaily  painted  in  bands  of  red,  white  and 
blue.  It  is  not,  of  course,  the  only  existing  maypole  in 
England.  I  myself,  moi  que  vous  parle,  know  about  a 
dozen ;  but  they  are  sufficiently  unusual  to  attract 
attention. 

The  rest  of  Welford  straggles  along  a  broad  street  to 
the  left,  and  presently  ends  obscurely  in  meadows 
leading  to  the  river.  Across  field-paths  one  comes  in 
this  direction  to  the  very  out-of-the-world  little  village 
of  Weston-on-Avon.  The  explorer  who  finds  Weston 
feels  like  some  member  of  the  Geographical  Society  who 
has  wandered  in  strange,  outlandish  parts  and  comes 

197 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

back  to  read  a  paper  on  the  subject ;  but  I  dare  say  it 
is  similarly  discovered  very  frequently.  Meanwhile,  I 
have  no  travellers'  tales  to  tell  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  people,  who  are,  as  commonly  elsewhere, 
of  two  sexes  and  walk  upright  on  their  hind  legs,  and 
some  are  old  and  some  young,  and  others  yet  middle- 
aged.     And  there  is  the  railway  station  of  Milcote,  only 


BOAT    LANE,    WELFORD. 

a  mile  away,  situated  in  a  field.  No  one  seems  ever  to 
go  to  it,  or  come  from  it ;  "  Milcote  "  being  a  species  of 
dream  place  represented  only  by  two  remote  houses. 
I  believe  the  station  must  have  been  set  down  there  by 
some  railway  manager  suffering  from  strong  delusions. 
Weston-on-Avon  is  really  a  very  charming  little  place, 
with  a  small  aisleless  Late  Perpendicular  church,  re- 
markable for  the  continuous  range  of  windows  high  up  in 
the  north  wall,  giving  the  interior  an  unusual  brightness 
and  grace.  The  tower  is  furnished  at  its  angles  with 
gargoyles  of  an  unusual  size  and  imaginative  quality. 

198 


SALFORD   HALL 

Returning  to  Welford,  a  by-road  leads  by  the 
meadows  called  "  Welford  Pastures  "  to  Barton,  and 
across  the  Roman  road,  the  Ryknield  Street,  to  the 
hamlet  of  Marlcliff,  below  Bidford,  where  the  Avon 
becomes  broader  and  navigable  and  lined  with  beauti- 
fully wooded  cliffs,  densely  covered  with  foliage  to  the 
water's  edge.  A  mile  further  is  the  village  of  Cleeve 
Priors,  where  the  picturesque  old  "  King's  Arms  "  inn, 
with  its  horseman's  upping-block  in  front,  dates  from 
1691.  Here,  too,  is  a  small  seventeenth -century  manor- 
house,  with  heavily-barred  and  grated  door,  breathing 
old-time  distrust  and  suspicion. 

Returning  through  the  village  to  the  waterside,  the 
river  may  be  crossed  here,  by  the  long  plank  footbridge, 
only  one  plank  wide,  at  Cleeve  Mill  and  lock ;  and  Abbot's 
Salford  reached,  on  the  Evesham  main  road,  just  missing 
Salford  Priors,  where,  if  we  wish  to  see  it,  there  is  a  fine 
old  church.  Salford  Priors  was  anciently  the  property 
of  the  Priory  of  Kenilworth,  and  Salford  Abbots  that  of 
Evesham  Abbey.  Here,  enclosed  within  a  jealous  high 
wall,  is  the  old  Hall,  generally  called  "  the  Nunnery," 
because  of  a  Roman  Catholic  sisterhood  having  been 
established  here  in  modern  times.  It  is  a  small  Jacobean 
mansion,  very  tall  in  proportion  to  its  size,  and  curiously 
huddled  together.  Quaint  ciu'ved  and  re -curved  gables 
of  a  bygone  fashion,  deeply  set  windows,  and  lofty  stone 
chimney-stacks,  give  the  place  a  reticent  look;  the  look 
of  a  house  with  a  history  and  secrets  of  its  own.  There 
are  so  many  amateurs  of  the  quaint  and  historic  nowa- 
days that  the  occupiers  of  Salford  Hall  have  grown  a 
little  tired  of  showing  strangers  the  genuine  old  hiding- 
hole  in  the  garret;  behind  a  quite  innocent-looking 
cupboard.  You  open  the  cupboard  and  see  a  common- 
place row  of  shelves.  No  one  would  suspect  a  secret 
there.     But  when  a  wooden  peg  is  removed,  the  shelves, 

199 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

together  with  the  back  of  the  cupboard,  push  back  on 
hinges,  admitting  to  a  hiding-hole  for  priest  or  cavaher, 
or  any  M^hose  necessities  led  him  to  store  himself  un- 
comfortably away  here.  Once  inside,  the  fugitive  could 
fix  the  door  Avith  a  peg,  so  that  it  could  not  be  moved 
from  without. 

Harvington,  which  comes  next  on  our  way  to  Evesham, 
is  a  delightful  cluster  of  old  timbered  houses,  with  a 
church  whose  Norman  tower  has  been  given  a  modern 
spire.  The  village  is  at  least  half  a  mile  from  the  river, 
but  it  takes  its  name,  originally  "  Herefordtun,"  from 
an  ancient  paved  ford  still  there,  a  most  charming  and 
interesting  scene.  The  ford  is  practically  a  submerged 
paved  road,  such  as  those  by  which  the  Romans  crossed 
rivers,  and  is  broad  enough  for  wagons  to  pass.  The 
roads  on  either  side  are,  however,  only  byways,  leading 
to  the  Littleton  villages  and  the  Lenches. 

Norton,  whose  full  name  is  Abbot's  Norton,  comes 
next.  It  was  for  some  years,  until  the  beginning  of  1912, 
the  property  of  the  Orleans  family,  one  of  the  exiled 
Royal  houses  of  France  ;  but  the  Due  d'Orleans  has  now 
sold  his  estates  and  his  residence  at  Wood  Norton,  close 
by,  to  Mr.  Justice  Swinfen  Eady.  Norton  has  yet  more, 
and  very  fine  timbered  houses,  and  in  its  church  lie  a 
number  of  the  Bigg  family,  in  efRgy  on  altar-tombs 
emblazoned  to  wonderment  with  their  heraldic  honours 
and  those  of  their  wives.  The  marble  lectern  is  a  relic 
from  Evesham  Abbey. 

From  Norton  the  road  enters  Evesham  along  Green- 
hill,  where  the  battle  was  fought  in  1265,  and  where  the 
suburbs  now  chiefly  extend. 


200 


CHAPTER   XX 

Evesliam. 

The  legendary  story  of  Evesham's  origin  takes  us  back 
to  the  year  701,  when  one  of  the  Bishop  of  Worcester's 
swineherds,  seeking  a  strayed  sow,  penetrated  the  forest 
that  then  covered  this  site,  and  here  found  his  sow  and 
also  a  ruined  chapel,  relic  of  an  ancient  and  forgotten 
church.  A  modern  discoverer  of  ruins  would  find 
shattered  walls  and  nothing  else,  but  Eof,  the  swine- 
herd, beheld  a  vision  of  the  Virgin  and  attendant  saints 
singing  there.  Instead  of  worshipping,  he  ran,  almost 
scared  out  his  life,  and  only  ventured  back  under  the 
protection  of  Bishop  Ecgwin  himself,  who  saw  the  same 
wonderful  sight  and  heard  the  singing.  There  could 
be  but  one  outcome  of  this  :  the  founding  of  a  religious 
house  upon  the  spot ;  and  thus  arose  the  great  Bene- 
dictine monastery  of  Eof's-hanune.  Even  in  those 
times  there  would  seem  to  have  been  people  who  could 
not  digest  this  story,  as  the  Bishop  soon  found,  and  he 
seems  to  have  been  so  stricken  by  the  tales  told  of  him 
that  he  considered  nothing  less  than  a  pilgrimage  to 
Rome  would  avail  him  much.  His  preparations  for 
departing  were  peculiar.  He  chained  his  legs  together 
and  having  locked  the  chain,  threw  the  key  into  the  river. 
Arrived  at  Rome  in  spite  of  this  amazing  difficulty  (we 
are  not  told  how  he  got  there  !),  a  salmon  bought  for  him 
proved  to  contain,  when  cut  open,  the  key  to  unlock  his 
fetters.  The  salmon  had  swallowed  it  in  the  Avon  and 
had  swum  across  seas  !     This  cumulative  outrage  upon 

201 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

common  sense  then  proceeds  to  tell  us  how  the  bells  of 
Rome  rang  of  themselves,  and  how  impressed  was  the 
Pope.  Nothing  afterwards  ever  astonished  him  :  his 
capacity  for  wonder  was  filled  to  the  brim.  These 
unparalleled  occurrences  seemed  to  this  credulous  and 
doddering  old  pontiff  so  strong  a  proof  of  Ecgwin's 
honesty  that  he  forthwith  conferred  upon  his  monas- 
tery not  only  many  valuable  privileges,  but  freed  it 
from  the  authority  of  Worcester.  And  Ecgwin,  third 
Bishop  of  Worcester,  resigned  the  greater  post  for  the 
lesser,  and  became  first  Abbot  of  Evesham.  There 
appears  to  have  been  an  early  doubt  as  to  what  the  name 
was  to  be,  for  it  is  once  referred  to  as  "  Ecguines- 
hamme  " ;  but  the  legendary  herdsman  Eof  easily  won 
the  honour,  and  although  Ecgwin  was  created  a  saint 
after  his  death,  the  place  never  acquired  his  name  and 
thus  we  have  "  Evesham  "  instead  of  "  Exham,"  as 
the  place  would  probably  otherwise  have  been  called. 

On  this  foundation  of  incredible  story  the  future 
wealth  and  power  of  the  great  Abbey  of  Evesham  was 
laid.  Its  Abbots  never  grew  ashamed  of  the  stupid 
lies,  and  to  the  last  sealed  their  deeds  and  documents 
with  seals  bearing  representations  of  Ecgwin's  unlocked 
fetters  and  other  incidents  of  his  fantastic  invention. 
In  spite  of  fire,  invasion  and  even  early  confiscation  of 
some  of  its  property,  Evesham  Abbey  grew  wealthier 
and  more  influential.  Its  Abbots  were  of  those  great 
mitred  Abbots  who  sat  in  Parliament,  prone  to  anger 
and  violence  on  occasion ;  and  not  infrequently  they 
were  of  the  type  of  Abbot  Roger,  who  in  the  thirteenth 
century  expended  the  substance  of  the  monastery  on 
riotous  living  and  kept  his  seventy  monks  and  sixty 
servants  so  ill-clothed  and  fed  that  they  went  in  rags 
and  even  starved.  No  bite  nor  sup  for  them  ;  and  when 
they  crawled  into  the  Abbey,  the  leaky  roof  poured  water 

202 


EVESHAM 

on  them.  Some  died  of  starvation.  It  would  take  long 
to  tell  in  full  the  story  of  the  many  years  in  which  this 
strange  Abbot  ruled. 

But  the  monastery  and  its  great  Abbey  church  easily 
survived  this  miserable  time,  and  fresh  architectural 
glories  were  added.  Even  at  the  last,  when  the  sup- 
pression of  the  great  religious  houses  under  Henry  the 
Eighth  was  impending,  more  building  was  in  progress. 
Abbot  Lichfield,  the  last  of  the  long  line,  then  ruled,  and 
was  building  the  Bell  Tower,  which  almost  alone  remains 
of  the  Abbey  church.  That  church,  350  feet  in  length, 
and  its  many  chapels  and  chantries,  filled  with  the 
tombs  of  generations  of  benefactors  who  had  hoped  by 
their  gifts  to  be  prayed  for  "  for  ever,"  was  destroyed 
in  almost  the  completest  manner.  Even  Thomas 
Cromwell,  the  most  zealous  of  Henry  the  Eighth's  coad- 
jutors, was  impressed  with  the  beauty  of  this  great  mass 
of  buildings ;  but  all  efforts  to  avert  the  destruction, 
and  to  put  them  to  some  collegiate  use,  failed.  Not  even 
the  great  Abbey  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds  disappeared  quite 
so  completely  as  this  of  Evesham.  Leland,  wi'iting  in 
1540,  six  years  later,  remarked,  with  astonishment  : 
"  Gone,  a  mere  heap  of  ruins." 

The  position  of  the  town  upon  the  meadow-lands  by 
the  Avon  is  enshrined  in  the  second  half  of  the  place- 
name,  which  in  this  case  is  not  the  more  common  "  ham," 
indicating  a  "  home,"  or  settlement,  but  "  hamme," 
a  waterside  meadow.  You  do  not  see  the  justness  of 
this  until  the  river  has  been  crossed  by  the  fine  modern 
bridge,  and  the  town  viewed  from  Bengeworth,  on  the 
other  side  of  Avon.  Thence  those  meadows  are  seen, 
with  the  Abbey  Bell  Tower,  and  the  towers  and  spires 
of  the  churches  of  St.  Lawrence  and  All  Saints,  making 
an  unusual  grouping,  with  a  certain  grandeur  in  their 
contrasting  dispositions.     We  may  readily  admit  that 

203 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

the  famous  Bell  Tower  is  the  finest  architectural  work 
in  Evesham,  because  the  admission  will  make  it  the 
easier  to  criticise  its  great  defect,  its  comparative 
dwarf ness.  Built  in  1533  by  Abbot  Lichfield,  it  was  the 
last  work  of  the  Gothic  era  at  Evesham,  and  is  perhaps 
one  of  the  most  striking  examples  of  the  Perpendicular 


&^  =*!^ 


BELL    TOWER,    EVESHAM. 

period  :  embodying  the  features  of  the  style  in  the 
highest  degree,  in  the  long  lateral  panellings  wholly 
covering  its  surface.  It  is  the  more  noticeable  because 
of  its  solitary  position.  But  to  lavish  upon  it  the  un- 
qualified praise  that  is  commonly  given  is  alike  uncritical 
of  its  own  defect  of  insufficient  height,  and  shows  an 
ignorance  or  forgetfulness  of  the  grander  proportions 
of  the  central  tower  of  Gloucester  Cathedral,  very 
closely   resembling   it   in   style,    or   of   the   unmatched 

204 


EVESHAM 

towers  of  the  Somersetshire  churches,  many  of  which 
are  not  only  loftier,  and  with  far  better  and  varied 
details,  but  have  also  that  sense  of  height  which  is  rather 
painfully  lacking  here. 

The  entrance  from  the  Market  Place  to  what  were 
once  the  Abbey  precincts,  where  the  churches  of  St. 
Lawrence  and  All  Saints  stand  closely  neighbouring 
one  another,  in  one  churchyard,  is  by  the  so-called 
Norman  Gateway.  There  is  not  much  left  of  the 
Norman  work,  the  upper  part  being  a  half-timber 
building,  apparently  of  the  fifteenth  century.  The 
view  into  this  corner  from  the  Market  Place  is  very 
picturesque,  but  it  was  better  before  the  adjoining 
public  library  was  built,  a  few  years  ago.  Not  only 
were  some  charmingly  old-world  houses  destroyed  to 
make  way  for  it,  but  it  is  itself  a  building  lamentably 
out  of  character  with  its  surroundings.  The  church 
of  St.  Lawrence,  very  late  in  style  and  remarkable  for 
the  originality  of  its  tower  and  spire,  has  some  delicate 
and  elaborate  work;  and  in  that  of  All  Saints  is  the 
richly-panelled  and  fan-vaulted  chantry  built  by  Clement 
Lichfield,  the  last  Abbot  of  Evesham,  who  lies  here. 

A  relic  of  the  Abbey  of  a  more  domestic  character  is 
seen  in  the  lovely  little  building  on  Abbey  Green  called 
the  Almonry.  It  was  formerly  the  place  where  the 
almoners  distributed  their  doles,  and  is  of  all  periods 
from  Early  English  to  Perpendicular,  its  materials 
ranging  from  stone  to  timber,  brick  and  plaster.  Many 
generations  have  had  something  to  say  in  the  building 
of  it,  and  the  present  has  at  the  moment  of  writing  these 
lines  said  yet  another  word,  stripping  off  the  plaster 
with  which  the  front  had  been  covered  for  some  two 
centuries.  The  sturdy  oak  timbering  is  now  uncovered, 
and  is  a  revelation  to  many  of  unsuspected  beauty. 
An  ancient  stone  lantern  is  inside  the  building,  which 

205 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

is  now  occupied  as  the  "  Rudge  Estate  Office."  Perhaps, 
now  that  these  new  and  better  ways  with  old  buildings 
are  revealing  long -forgotten  craftsmanship,  attention 
will  be  turned  to  the  ancient  Booth  Hall,  or  market- 
house,  still  standing  in  the  Market  Place,  covered  in 
like  manner  with  plaster. 

It  would  not  be  well  to  leave  Evesham  without  re- 
ferring to  the  greatest  event  in  its  history,  the  fierce 


THE    ALMONRY,    EVESHAM. 


battle  fought  here  August  4th,  1265,  at  Greenhill,  on 
the  road  to  Worcester.  Simon  de  Montfort,  Earl  of 
Leicester,  in  arms  against  Henry  the  Third,  and  with 
the  King  himself  a  prisoner  in  his  hands,  lay  at  Evesham 
the  night  before  with  his  army.  De  Montfort  and  his 
men  were  at  mass  early  the  next  morning  and  then 
marched  out  to  meet  an  enemy  who  outnumbered  them 
and  had  cut  off  every  avenue  of  escape.  They  were 
fighting  for  the  popular  cause,  and  De  Montfort,  French- 
man though  he  might  be,  was  the  chosen  champion  of 
English  liberties.     Privilege  and  the  reactionaries  had 

206 


THE   BATTLE   OF   EVESHAM 

their  way  that  day,  for  Prince  Edward  and  his  numeric- 
ally superior  and  encircling  army  cut  down  De  IMontfort 
and  his  men  in  swathes.  None  asked  or  gave  quarter 
on  that  fatal  day.  A  large  number  hewed  their  way 
through  and  fled  to  the  Castle  of  Kenilworth,  but  the 
old  Simon  and  his  son  Henry  were  slain.  The  King 
himself  was  almost  slain  by  mistake.  The  sculptured 
base  of  an  obelisk  on  the  site  of  the  battle  at  Abbey 
Manor,  Greenhill,  portrays  this  incident,  with  the  King's 
words,  "  I  am  Henry  of  Winchester,  your  King.  Do 
not  kill  me." 

"  It  is  God's  grace  !  "  exclaimed  the  dying  De  Mont- 
fort.  The  exultant  enemy  did  not  scruple  to  mutilate 
his  body  and  to  send  portions  of  it  about  the  country. 

"  Such,"  says  Robert  of  Gloucester, 

"^vvas  the  murder  of  Ev^esham,  for  battle  none  it  was^ 
And  therewith  Jesus  Christ  ill  pleased  was. 
As  he  showed  by  tokens  grisly  and  good." 

In  spite  of  the  Ban  of  Kenilworth,  which  forbade  the 
people  to  regard  Simon  de  Montfort  as  a  saint,  and  for- 
bade them  to  pay  reverence  to  his  memory,  the  resting- 
place  of  what  remains  of  him  could  be  collected  was 
before  the  High  Altar  of  the  Abbey  Church,  and  there 
thousands  prayed  and  miracles  were  performed.  For 
generations  his  shrine  was  the  best  asset  of  the  church 
and  contributed  largely  to  its  rebuilding. 

The  next  important  warlike  incident  at  Evesham  was 
also  the  last ;  the  assault  and  capture  of  the  town  in 
May  1645  by  Massey,  the  Parliamentary  Governor  of 
Gloucester,  in  spite  of  a  gallant  defence  by  Colonel 
Legge  and  his  small  garrison  of  700  men.  It  was  a 
three-to-one  business,  for  Massey  had  2000  men  at  his 
disposal.  Since  then  the  town  has  had  peace  to  follow 
that  fruit -farming  and  market -gardening  career  which 
it   has   pursued   with   ever-increasing   success   for   two 

207 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

centuries.  There  are  not  many  tree-  and  bush-fruits 
uncultivated  in  the  Vale  of  Evesham,  whose  deep  rich 
soil  yields  abundantly  to  the  growers'  efforts,  but  the 
plum  is  the  speciality  of  this  Vale.  It  is  not  like  the 
fabled  Ai'thurian  Vale  of  Avalon,  "  where  comes  not 
hail  nor  frost  " ;  for  indeed  the  belated  frosts  of  spring 
are  the  bugbear  of  the  Evesham  fruit-farmer,  and  he 
has  been  driven  in  self-defence  of  late  years,  to  com- 
bat those  nipping  temperatures  by  burning  nightly 
"  smudges  "  of  heavy  oil,  to  take  the  sting  out  of  the 
airs  that  would  otherwise  congeal  his  fruit-buds  at  the 
time  of  their  setting,  and  thus  ruin  his  prospect  of  a 
crop.  The  plum — and  especially  the  yellow  "  egg 
plum  " — is  the  Evesham  speciality,  and  in  April  its 
blossom  fills  the  Vale  like  snow.  But  there  are  com- 
paratively few  strangers  who  see  that  wonderful  spectacle. 
If  the  close  of  April  be  kind,  you  may  see  it  and  rejoice, 
but  if  the  month  be  going  out  in  rain  and  wind,  then  it 
is  better  to  be  at  home  than  on  Cotswold  or  in  this  sink 
of  alluvial  earth  below  those  hills.  I  was  caught  in 
April  showers  at  Evesham,  on  a  day  that  was  "  arl  a- 
collied  like,"  as  they  say  in  these  parts,  meaning  gloomy 
and  overcast;  and  then  "the  dag  came  arn,  an'  then 
et  mizzled,  an'  grew  worser  'n  worser,  until  et  poured 
suthin  tar'ble."  And  there  I  stood  long  in  one  entry 
off  the  High  Street  until  I  was  tired  of  it,  and  then  in 
another,  and  thus  having  done  Evesham  by  double 
entry,  ended  the  unprofitable  day  by  staying  the  night, 
while  the  wind  raged,  and  it  hailed  and  rained  and 
snowed  by  turns  and  simultaneously.  But  the  next 
morning  was  a  glorious  one,  although  the  roads  were 
full  of  puddles  and  strewn  with  plum-blossom  ravaged 
from  the  orchards  by  those  nocturnal  blasts. 

One  need  not  be  long  at  Evesham  to  note  the  extra- 
ordinary number  of  fruit-growers  and  market -gardeners 

208 


ABBEY    GATEWAY,    EVESHAM. 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

hereabouts,  as  shown  by  the  many  wagons,  or  floats, 
on  their  way  to  or  from  the  railway  station  with  baskets 
and  hampers  of  apples,  pears,  plums,  gooseberries, 
currents,  tomatoes,  or  asparagus ;  while  to  travel  south 
of  the  toAvn,  through  the  favoured  Vale,  by  any  road 
you  please,  is  to  see  that  these  are  highly  specialised 
cultivations  that  give  as  distinct  a  character  to  this 
landscape  as  do  the  hop-gardens  or  the  cherry-orchards 
of  Kent. 

Leaving  Evesham,  it  will  be  noticed  how  very  much 
after  the  style  at  Stratford  the  Avon  has  been  artificially 
widened  and  made  to  wear  an  almost  lakelike  effect, 
with  a  kind  of  everyday  gala  appearance.  Here  are 
trim  grassy  edges  and  public  gardens;  and  boats  and 
punts  to  be  had  for  the  hiring  :  a  tamed  and  curbed 
Avon,  like  the  Round  Pond  or  the  Serpentine  in 
Kensington  Gardens. 


210 


CHAPTER   XXI 

Broadway — Winclicombe — Shakespearean  Associations — Bishop's 

Cleeve. 

"  An  Eden  of  fertility,"  says  an  old  writer,  dwelling  with 
satisfaction  upon  the  Vale  of  Evesham.  The  neat 
orchards  of  to-day,  with  their  long  perspectives,  and 
with  bush-fruit  planted  in  between  the  lines  of  plum 
and  apple-trees,  to  economise  every  inch  of  this  wonder- 
ful soil,  would  seem  to  him  even  more  of  an  Eden,  neater 
and  more  extended  than  in  his  day.  It  is  not,  you  will 
say,  the  most  picturesque  form  of  cultivation,  but  it 
has  that  best  of  picturesque  beauty  to  some  minds,  the 
picturesqueness  of  profit.  I  never  yet  knew  a  farmer 
who  could  see  a  cornfield  with  an  artist's  eye,  and  was 
the  better  pleased  the  more  the  poppies,  corn-cockles, 
and  herb-daisies  grew  in  it.  For  generations  past,  you 
will  be  told,  the  fruit-growing  of  the  Vale  of  Evesham 
has  been  steadily  giving  less  profit,  and  scarce  a  man 
among  the  growers  but  will  declare  the  times  are  ruining 
the  trade.  But  the  pastures  continue  to  be  planted 
as  extensions  of  the  orchards,  and  the  railway  traffic  in 
fruit  is  an  increasing  branch  of  business.  The  only 
possible  inferences,  therefore,  are  that  these  jolly-looking 
market -gardeners,  who  live  so  well  and  look  so  pros- 
perous, thrive  on  ruination  and  really  cultivate  the  plum 
for  the  aesthetic  but  fleeting  pleasure  of  seeing  every 
spring  that  wondrous  vale  of  snow-white  blossom  that 
spreads  out  below  Cots  wold. 

Five  miles  or  so  south-eastwards  across  the  vale  brings 
P  2  211 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

you  into  Broadway,  a  village  exploited  some  thirty  years 
ago,  and  now,  converted  from  the  rustic  place  it  was, 
into  a  residential  district.  The  old  houses  and  cottages 
remain,  but  the  simple  rustic  folk  who  lived  in  them  are 
dispersed,  and  in  their  old  homes  live  that  new  class 
of  appreciative  and  cultivated  people  with  anything 
at  command,  from  great  wealth  down  to  a  sufficient 
independence.  A  generation  ago  people  of  this  class 
would  have  thought  life  out  of  London  or  such  great 
centres  unendurable.  They  would  have  missed  their 
town  life  and  the  shopping  and  all  the  thousand-and- 
one  distractions,  and  if  you  had  suggested  Broadway 
or  any  such  place,  they  would  indignantly  have  asked  if 
you  wanted  them  to  "  bury  themselves  alive." 

And  now  ideals  have  changed,  or  perhaps  more  exactly, 
a  new  class  of  persons  has  been  born.  The  wealthy 
who  cannot  live  away  from  the  centres  of  life  still  numer- 
ously exist,  but  there  are  great  numbers  of  the  leisured 
who  have  culture  and  resources  Avithin  themselves  and 
are  not  dependent  for  their  amusement  upon  extraneous 
things.  Also  we  have  in  these  days  of  swift  travel  by 
road  and  rail  to  reckon  not  only  with  the  "  week-ender  " 
(who  does  not  trouble  Broadway  nuich),  but  upon  that 
class  who  will  have  it  both  ways,  will  take  the  best 
of  town,  and  when  the  country  is  most  desirable  will 
leave  town  to  others  and  retire  to  such  places  as  this. 

These  things  have  made  Broadway  a  very  different 
place  from  what  it  was  a  generation  ago.  The 
old  people,  sons  of  the  soil,  have  been  disinherited,  and 
strangers — not  only  the  "  foreigners,"  of  whom  the 
rustics  speak,  meaning  merely  peojjle  not  of  the  same 
shire,  but  foreigners  from  over-seas — are  living  in  their 
homes,  and  they  still  resent  it,  even  though  they  may 
earn  more  in  wages  and  in  "  tips"  from  the  tipping  classes. 
The  sense  of  place  and  of  justice  too,  is  strong  in  the 

212 


BROADWAY 

blood  of  the  countryman,  and  he  feels  it  to  be  a  shame 
that  strangers  should  come  from  remote  countries  and 
covet  the  house  where  he  and  his  fathers  lived,  and  turn 
him  out.     It  is  an  outcome  of  the  recent  appreciation 
of  country  life  which  is  creating  bitterness  and  resent- 
ment, not  at  Broadway  alone,  but  all  over  the  country.^ 
The  broad  street,   with  its  grey  stone  houses,  is  to 
outward  seeming  very  much  the  same,  but  there  is  a 
neatness,  an  unmistakable  sense  of  money   about    the 
place.     Every  little  plot  of  grass  in  front  of  the  houses 
at  the  upper  end,  that  never  used  to  know  the  attentions 
of   the   mower,    has    become   a    lawn ;    small    cottages 
have  been  enlarged  and  thrown  into  one  another,  and 
farmhouses,  whose  ancient  features  have  been  ingeniously 
adapted   by  resourceful   architects,  have  become   resi- 
dences of  the  most  delightful  type.     A  little  golfing, 
some  motoring,   half  a  dozen  other  interests  and  the 
modern  craze  for  collecting,  fill  the  lives  of  the  people 
who  live  here.     A  retired  actress  collects  pewter,  and 
others  scan  the  neighbourhood  with  the  amiable  object 
of   snapping  up  rare  and   valuable   pieces  of   china  or 
furniture  at  much  less  than  their  worth  from  country- 
folk who  are  ignorant  of  their  value.     There  is  a  curiosity 
shop  in  the  village,  too,  where  the  stranger  may  find 
bargains,  or  may  not ;  and  I  am  told — although  I  have 
never  seen  him — that  an  innocent-looking  old  person 
carrying  a  rare  specimen  of  a  grandfather's  clock  under 
his  arm  may  generally  be  seen  crossing  the  road  by  the 
"  Lygon  Arms,"  at  times  when  obviously  wealthy,  and 

1  As  these  pages  go  to  press  a  singularly  full  coimrmatioii  of  these 
remarks  appears  in  one  of  the  Septeml)er  1912  issues  of  the  Birmingham 
Post :  "  Evesham  District  Council  have  decided  to  build  sixty  cottages 
at  Broadway  under  the  Housing  of  the  Working  Classes  Act,  and  the 
Local  Government  Board  have  sanctioned  the  borrowing  of  £10,000." 
Thus,  a  number  of  brand-new  dwellings  are  to  be  built,  to  rehouse  those 
villagers  whose  ancient  homes  have  been  taken  from  them.  It  is  a 
curious  sidelight  upon  the  spread  of  culture. 

213 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

possibly  American  and  appreciative,  occupants  of  motor- 
cars drive  up.  The  suggestion  is  that  very  often  this 
ingenious  person  sells  his  rare,  and  possibly  "  unique," 
clock  at  a  stunning  price  and  will  be  seen  in  another  day  or 
two  with  the  fellow  of  it.  This  has  been  indignantly 
denied  by  the  outraged  people  of  Broadway,  but  re- 
affirmed in  print,  and  I  will  leave  it  at  that. 

My  amiable  friend,  Mr.  S.  B.  Russell  of  the  "  Lygon 
Arms,"  is  of  those  who  deny  this  quaint  tale.  The 
"  Lygon  Arms  "  itself  has  become  a  stately  house,  both 
without  and  within.  As  the  "  White  Hart,"  of  olden 
days  it  dates  back  to  1540.  Traditionally  Cromwell 
lay  here,  the  night  before  the  Battle  of  Worcester,  and 
there  are  even  traditions  of  Charles  the  First  staying 
here,  ten  years  earlier.  I  am  not  concerned  to  deny 
or  to  affirm  these  legends.  In  any  case,  it  would  be 
sheer  futility  to  do  so,  for  no  evidence  survives.  But 
it  is  likely  enough,  for  the  "  White  Hart,"  as  it  then  was, 
ranked  with  the  best — as  it  does  now,  if  I  may  say  it. 
We  may  readily  judge  of  its  then  standing,  by  the  fine 
Jacobean  stone  entrance  doorway,  built  by  John  Trevis 
in  1620,  and  still  admitting  to  the  house.  It  bears  his 
name  and  that  of  Ursula  his  wife,  with  the  date,  and 
seems  to  mark  a  general  restoration  of  the  already  old 
hostelry  undertaken  at  that  time.  John  Trevis — or 
"Treavis" — himself  lies  in  Broadway  old  church,  an  inter- 
esting old  building  a  mile  or  more  distant  from  the  village, 
and  situated  along  a  lonely  wooded  road,  adjoining 
an  ancient  manor-house  lately  restored  with  much  taste 
and  discrimination.  Trevis  died  in  1641,  and  has  a  brass 
to  his  memory.  This  old  church  is  in  a  solitary  situa- 
tion, and  is  largely  superseded  by  a  modern  building 
near  the  village.  There  is  a  palimpsest  brass  in  the 
chancel,  and  hard  by  is  an  enriched  wooden  pulpit, 
bearing  this   distinctly  apposite   and  characteristically 

214 


THE   COTSWOLDS 

Reformation-period  inscription  :  "  Prov.  19.  Wher  the 
word  of  God  is  not  preached,  the  people  perish." 

But  to  return  to  Broadway  and  the  "  Lygon  Arms." 
Thirty  years  ago  the  house  had  fallen  into  a  very  poor 
condition,  and  the  great  stone  building  with  its  fine 
rooms  and  its  air  of  being  really  a  private  mansion,  had 
declined  to  the  likeness  of  a  village  alehouse.  It  was 
all  the  doing  of  the  railways,  which  had  disestablished 
the  coaches,  and  brought  desolation  upon  this  road,  in 
common  with  most  others.  But  in  the  dawn  of  the  new 
era  of  road  travel  the  present  proprietor  bought  the 
house,  and  has  by  degrees  reinstated  those  stone  mullions 
which  had  been  torn  from  the  windows  and  replaced 
at  some  extraordinarily  inappreciative  period  by  modern 
sashes ;  and  has  wi'ought  altogether,  a  wonderful  trans- 
formation. The  "  Lygon  Arms,"  is  now  as  stately  a 
hostelry  as  ever  it  was. 

I  reach  the  old  town  of  Chipping  Campden  by  another 
route,  and  so  will  not  climb  on  this  occasion  the  steep, 
mile-long  Broadway  Hill  by  which  you  come  this  way 
to  it.     I  will  turn  instead  further  south,  to  Winchcombe. 

Winchcombe,  it  may  be  thought,  is  a  far  cry  from 
Stratford-on-Avon.  It  is  twenty-four  miles  distant, 
but  though  twenty-four  miles  formed  in  olden  days  a 
very  much  more  considerable  journey  than  now,  the 
place  and  its  surroundings  were  familiar  to  Shakespeare. 
If  you  would  seek  here  local  allusions  in  the  plays, 
wherewith  to  belabour  the  Bacon  fanatics,  there  is  no 
lack  in  this  district  of  "  Cotsall,"  those  Cots  wolds  on  which 
Page's  fallow  greyhound  was  outrun :  a  portion  of  those 
"  wilds  in  Gloucestershire,"  whose  "  high  wild  hills  and 
rough  uneven  ways.  Draw  out  our  miles  and  make  them 
wearisome,"  as  Northumberland  complains  in  King 
Richard  the  Second. 

Shakespeare  knew  most  that  was  to  be  known  about 

215 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

the  Cotswold  Hills,  and  when  he  makes  Shallow  bid 
Davy  "sow  the  headland  with  red  wheat,"  he  alludes 
to  an  olden  local  custom  of  sowing  "  red  lammas " 
wheat  early  in  the  season. 

He  was  familiar  with  the  consistency  of  Tewkesbury 
mustard,  \\dth  which,  doubtless,  the  Stratford  folk 
of  his  day  relished  their  meat,  and  he  finds  in  it  an  apt 
illustration  of  a  dull  man's  attempted  sprightliness  : 
as  where  he  makes  Falstaff  say,  "  He  a  good  Avit, 
hang  him  baboon  !  His  wit  is  as  thick  as  Tewkesbury 
mustard." 

Here,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Winchcombe,  familiar 
rhymes,  generally  uncomplimentary,  upon  surrounding 
places  are  attributed  to  him  almost  as  freely  as  are 
those  upon  the  "  Eight  Villages."     They  tell  of— 

"  Dirty  Gretton,  Dinjry  Greet, 

Beg'gfarly  Wiiiclicombe,  Sudeley  sweet  ; 
Hanging  Hartsliorn,  A^'hittington  Bell, 
Dull  Andoversford,  and  Merry  Frog  Mill." 

The  epithets  vary  with  the  different  narrators  of  the 
lines.  Those  quoted  above  do  not  in  general  fit  the 
places,  except  beautiful  Sudeley  and  perhaps  "  once  upon 
a  time  "  Frog  Mill,  which,  in  spite  of  its  name  was  prob- 
ably of  old  a  sufficiently  merry  place,  for  it  is  the  name 
of  an  ancient  and  once  renowned  inn  adjoining  Andovers- 
ford :  an  inn  where  men  made  merry  until  the  railway 
came  hard  by  and  disestablished  its  custom. 

Winchcombe  it  is  difficult  to  believe  ever  "  beggarly." 
It  is  an  old  and  picturesque  market  town  in  the  Cots- 
wolds,  with  a  noble  and  particularly  striking  Perpen- 
dicular church,  with  clerestoried  nave  and  central  tower, 
and  an  array  of  monstrously  gibbering  gargoyles.  Next 
it  is  a  curious  old  inn,  oddly  named  the  "  Corner  Cup- 
board." Here,  too,  at  the  "  George "  inn,  are  some 
traces  of  the  hostelry  formerly  maintained  by  the  Abbots 

216 


'OLD   JOHN  NAPS' 

of  Winchcombe  for  pilgrims  to  their  altars.  Sudeley 
Castle,  in  its  park  a  mile  away,  is  a  place  of  great  interest, 
now  restored,  with  a  modern  altar-tomb  and  effigy  to 
Catherine  Parr,  sixth  and  last  wife  of  Henry  the  Eighth, 
who  resided  here. 

Gretton  is  a  village  two  miles  from  Winchcombe,  on 
the  Tewkesbury  road,  and  Greet  is  a  wayside  hamlet 
in  between.  We  have  no  authority  for  the  Shake- 
spearean authorship  of  the  rhymes,  but  "  old  John  Naps 
of  Greece,"  who  is  mentioned  with  "  Peter  Turf  and 
Henry  Pimpernell  "  as  cronies  of  Christopher  Sly,  was 
not  "  of  Greece  "  but  of  this  place.  "  Greece  "  is  one 
of  those  many  misprints  that  in  the  early  folios  and 
quartos  continue  to  puzzle  critics.  In  one  of  them 
Hamlet  declares  he  can  tell  the  difference  between  "  a 
hawk  and  a  handsaw,"  and  it  was  long  before  "  handsaw  " 
was  seen  to  be  a  printer's  error  for  "  heronshaw,"  a 
young  heron.  To  emigrate  John  Naps  from  Greet  to 
Greece  was  a  comparatively  easy  matter,  in  type,  if 
not  in  actual  travel.  We  will  allow,  for  argument's 
sake,  that  this  by  itself  might  not  be  convincing  evi- 
dence that  Shakespeare  knew  Greet  and  intended  to 
refer  to  it ;  but  we  have  Davy,  Shallow's  servant  in 
the  Second  Part  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  referring  to 
"  William  Visor  of  Woncot,"  who  has  an  action  at 
law  against  "  Clement  Perkes  of  the  hill."  By  "  Won- 
cot," is  meant  the  hamlet  of  Woodmancote,  three  miles 
west  of  Winchcoiube,  a  place  then  and  now  called 
"  Woncot,"  locally.  The  name,  correctly  spelt  in  the 
original  edition  of  1600,  has  been  mistakenly  altered 
to  "  Wincot,"  in  later  issues.  At  Woodmancote  the 
family  of  Visor,  sometimes  spelled  "  Vizard,"  was  in 
Shakespeare's  time  and  until  recent  years  living.  It 
lies  beneath  Stinchcombe  Hill,  locally  "  the  Hill,"  which 
rises  to  the  imposing  height  of  915  feet.     There,  it  has 

217 


SIBIMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

been  ascertained,  the  Perkes  family  then  had  their 
home.  The  name  of  Perkes  was  various!}^  spelled 
*'  Pm'kis  "  and  "  Purchas."  The  last  representative 
appears  to  have  been  one  "  J.  Purchas,  Esq.,  of  Stinch- 
combe  Hill,  near  Dursley,  Glos.,"  who  is  mentioned  in 
the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  1812,  as  having  died  at 
Margate,  in  his  seventy-fifth  year. 

It  is  a  tremendous  and  a  beautiful  view  from  the  lofty 
plateau  of  Cleeve  Common  as  you  go  from  Winchcombe 
to  Woodmancote  and  Bishop's  Cleeve,  on  the  way  to 
Tewkesbury.  I  shall  never  forget  the  glory  of  that 
evening  of  early  summer  when,  romping  out  of  Chelten- 
ham, our  car  breasted  the  long  rise  to  this  view-point 
and  we  halted  here  as  the  Avestering  sun  sank  across 
the  golden-blue  distance  of  the  Vale  of  Avon,  with  the 
Malvern  Hills,  grey  and  indistinct,  beyond.  Distant 
views  of  the  Promised.  Land  could  have  made  no  better 
j^romise  of  beauty  and  plenty. 

From  this  Pisgah  height  you  come  "  down-a-down-a," 
as  Ophelia  says,  to  Bishop's  Cleeve,  thinking  upon  the 
sheer  appropriateness  of  the  place-name ;  not  the 
"Bishop"  part  of  it,  but  the  "  Cleeve  ";  which  stands 
of  course  for  "  cleft,"  or  "  cliff."  Thenceforward,  the 
way  lies  along  the  levels  into  Tewkesbury,  through  Stoke 
Orchard  and  Treddington. 


218 


CHAPTER   XXII 

Tewkesbury. 

The  little  town  of  Tewkesbury,  which  numbers  about 
5500  inhabitants,  and  is  one  of  the  most  cheerful  and 
bustling,  and  withal  one  of  the  most  picturesque  towns 
in  England,  occupies  a  remarkable  situation.  Not 
remarkable  in  the  scenic  way,  for  a  more  nearly  level 
stretch  of  very  often  flooded  meadow  lands  you  will  not 
see  for  miles.  The  site  of  Tewkesbury  is  close  upon,  but 
not  actually  on,  the  confluence  of  England's  greatest 
river,  the  broad  and  turbid  and  rather  grim  Severn,  with 
the  Avon.  All  around,  but  in  grey  and  blue  distances, 
are  hills  :  the  Cotswolds,  the  Bredon  Hills,  the  greater 
Malverns,  and  the  yet  greater,  but  more  distant  Welsh 
mountains ;  but  the  Severn  and  the  Avon  flow  through 
levels  that  extend  considerable  distances.  When  those 
two  rivers — so  different  in  every  respect ;  in  size,  in 
character,  and  in  the  very  colour  of  their  waters,  the 
Avon  being  clear  and  bright,  and  the  Severn  a  sullen, 
dun-coloured  waterway — unite  to  flood  these  low-lying 
lands  the  only  way  to  travel  comfortably  about  the 
neighbourhood  is  by  boat.  Tewkesbury  is  at  all  times 
particularly  old-world  and  quaint,  and  it  makes  on  these 
occasions  an  excellent  substitute  for  Venice.  This 
peculiarity,  or  rather  this  contingency,  let  us  say, 
perhaps  explains  the  at  first  sight  rather  singular  fact 
that  the  town  should  have  been  built  on  the  Avon,  half 
a  mile  from  its  junction  with  the  Severn,  and  not  upon 
the  larger  river  at  all.     It  looks  like  a  wanton  disregard 

219 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN   SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

of  the  advantages  that  the  Severn  navigation  would 
bring  to  the  town,  with  riverside  wharves  and  quays ; 
but  those  who  selected  the  site  probably  considered  the 
Severn  to  be  too  dangerous  a  river,  and  so  set  their  town 
back  half  a  mile  or  so  from  its  banks.  A  consequence 
is  that  the  external  trade  of  Tewkesbury  has  always  been 
negligible,  and  to-day,  although  the  text-books  tell  you 
of  its  industry  of  making  shirt-fronts — ^"  particularly 
stiff  shirt-fronts  " — and  the  olden  one  of  flour-milling, 
which  is  carried  on  by  Avonside,  the  scale  of  their 
activities  has  never  become  large. 

The  founding  of  Tewkesbury  is  said  to  have  been  the 
work  of  a  seventh-century  religious  Saxon  named  Theoc, 
who  established  a  church  here ;  but  the  Roman  station, 
Etocessa,  was  here  first,  and  although  the  place-name  is 
supposed  to  derive  from  Theoc,  by  way  of  "  Theocs- 
byrig,"  and  the  Domesday  version,  "  Teodechesberie," 
too  little  is  known  of  him  for  us  to  take  much  interest 
in  it.  It  is  rather  interesting,  however,  to  consider  that, 
the  site  being  among  water-meadows,  and  that  the  land 
at  the  confluence  of  Severn  and  Wye  is  called  "  the 
Ham,"  how  very  near  Tewkesbury  was  to  being  called 
"  Tewkesham." 

The  monastery  that  was  thus  seated  by  the  two  rivers 
became  a  flourishing  Benedictine  house,  and  after  its 
full  share  of  the  early  adversities  of  fire  and  sword, 
famine  and  flood,  it  resulted  in  the  building  of  the  grand 
Abbey  church,  which  is  still  the  greatest  architectural 
glory  of  the  town.  The  re-founder  of  the  monastery 
and  builder  of  this  noble  and  solemn  example  of  Norman 
architecture  was  Robert  Fitz  Hamon,  Earl  of  Gloucester, 
the  greatest  of  the  early  Lords  Marchers  of  Wales,  and 
overlord  of  Glamorgan,  who  died  in  1197,  fighting  in 
foreign  wars.  He  had  seen  so  many  post-mortem 
bequests    go    wi'ong    and    never    reach    their    intended 

220 


TEWKESBURY  ABBEY 

destination  that  he  determined  to  perform  his  re -founding 
of  monastery  and  cliurch  in  his  own  hfetime.  Both 
were  well  advanced  when  he  died,  and  the  Abbey  was 
finally  consecrated  in  1223;  a  remarkable  example  of 
expedition  for  those  times.  I  do  not  propose  to  narrate 
the  story  of  the  Abbey,  which  has  no  such  picturesque 
and  fantastic  falsehoods  as  that  of  Evesham.  The 
monastery  ran  its  course  and  was  suppressed  with  others 
by  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  the  Abbey  church  was  saved 
by  the  townsfolk,  who  paid  the  King  the  equivalent  of 
£5000  for  the  site  and  fabric.  And  so  it  remains  to 
us  to  this  day,  more  venerable  by  lapse  of  time,  minus 
its  Lady  Chapel,  and  with  evidences  of  the  puritan  zeal 
of  rather  more  than  a  hundred  years  later  than  Henry's 
great  reform ;  but  it  is  yet  the  veritable  building  of  Fitz 
Hamon's  and  of  the  generations  that  succeeded  him. 

You  cannot  see  this  great  Abbey  church  to  advantage 
from  the  town.  It  is  only  from  the  open  meadows  by 
the  Severn,  and  its  tributary  brooks,  where  the  little 
town  is  to  be  guessed  at  by  the  evidence  of  a  few  roofs 
and  chimneys,  that  its  great  scale  and  solemn  majesty 
are  fully  apparent.  There  the  great  central  Norman 
tower  and  the  magnificent  and  unique  West  Front  of  the 
same  period  are  seen  in  their  proper  relation  with  the 
surroundings.  The  long  outline  is  very  like  that  of 
St.  Albans,  but  237  feet  less ;  St.  Albans  Abbey  being 
550  feet  long,  and  Tewkesbury  313  feet. 

The  near  view  of  the  West  Front  and  its  great  and 
deeply-embayed  Norman  window,  filled  not  unsuitably 
with  the  Perpendicular  tracery  of  three  hundred  years 
later,  is  no  disillusionment ;  it  is,  after  the  glorious  West 
Front  of  Peterborough,  one  of  the  most  striking  compo- 
sitions of  the  kind  in  England,  and  the  flanking  Norman 
tourelles  and  spirelets  have  by  contrast  the  most  delicate 
appearance. 

221 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Entering  the  building,  a  massive  Norman  nave  is  seen, 
singularly  like  that  of  Gloucester  cathedral,  and  no 
doubt  designed  by  the  same  hand.  The  same  massive 
but  disproportionately  lofty  columns,  with  dwarfed 
triforium  and  clerestory,  proclaim  a  similar  origin. 
The  columns  are  Fitz  Hamon's  work,  and  the  clerestory 
above,  and  the  stone -vaulted  roof  are  the  additions  of 
over  two  centuries  later,  when  the  builders  had  grown 
more  daring  and  risked  a  heavy  stone  roof  in  place  of 
the  former  flat  wooden  one.  Fitz  Hamon's  transepts 
also  remain  and  his  choir,  in  its  essentials ;  although  in 
the  same  Decorated  period  which  witnessed  the  addition 
of  the  clerestory  and  stone  vaulting  to  the  nave  the 
Norman  choir  was  remodelled.  To  this  period  belong 
the  seven  windows  filled  with  splendid  old  stained  glass, 
representing  all  good  benefactors,  from  Fitz  Hamon 
onwards,  praying  for  heavenly  grace,  but  clinging  to 
their  ancient  heraldic  cognisances  of  long  descent  as 
tenaciously  as  though  the  authority  of  Garter  King-at- 
Arms  and  all  his  fellow-kings  and  pursuivants  extended 
to  Heaven,  and  St.  Peter  was  authorised  to  admit  to  the 
best  places  only  those  who  could  display  these  patents 
of  gentility.  It  is  glorious  old  glass,  more  than  much 
damaged  and  time-worn,  but  still  splendid  in  design  and 
colour. 

Behind  the  choir  still  runs  the  semicircular  ambu- 
latory, as  on  the  old  Norman  plan,  but  the  Lady  Chapel 
has  disappeared.  Here  too  are  some  of  the  ancient 
chapels  formerly  clustered  about  the  east  end.  Here 
are  soine  mouldering  swords,  deeply  bitten  into  by 
Time's  teeth,  from  the  battlefield  of  Tewkesbury.  Fitz 
Hamon's  chantry  is  not  of  his  period  :  it  was  rebuilt 
more  than  three  hundred  years  later ;  proof  that  he, 
and  the  health  of  his  immortal  part  were  kept  in  mind, 
and  incidentally  showing  us  that  not  all  gratitude  is, 

222 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

as  cynics  would  declare,  "  a  lively  sense  of  favours  to 
come." 

The  so-called  "  Warwick  "  chantry,  built  1422  by 
Isabel  le  Despencer  in  memory  of  her  first  husband, 
Richard  Beauchamp,  Earl  of  Abergavenny,  is  in  the 
last,  and  most  elaborated  style  of  Gothic  architecture 
and  decoration.  There  are  many  other  monuments  : 
including  the  beautiful  one  of  Hugh  le  Despencer  and 
his  viiie  Elizabeth.  Their  splendidly  sculptured  ala- 
baster figures  lie  there  with  a  calm  indifference  con- 
trasting with  his  violent  end,  for  he  was  executed  in 
1349,  at  Hereford.  So  often  did  the  great  nobles  of 
those  centuries  suffer  from  the  headsman's  axe  and 
with  such  frequency  did  they  die  on  the  battlefield 
that  it  became  a  matter  of  pride  to  declare  how  rarely 
they  ended  peacefully  and  of  old  age,  in  their  beds.  It 
was  almost  a  slur  upon  one's  personal  character  to 
pass  in  this  way,  when  one  might  in  the  last  resource 
join  some  desperate  rebellion  and  be  handsomely  slain ; 
or  at  the  very  least  of  it,  be  taken  and  properly 
beheaded. 

These  philosophical  and  historical  considerations  bring 
one,  by  a  natural  transition,  to  the  Battle  of  Tewkesbury, 
fought  in  the  meadoAvs  to  the  south  of  the  towTi  on  May 
Day  1471.  The  place  where  the  fight  raged  fiercest 
was  close  by  the  Gloucester  road,  in  the  field  still  called 
"  Bloody  Meadow,"  whose  name  it  is  understood  the 
town  council,  in  the  interests  of  the  rising  generation, 
are  keenly  desirous  of  seeing  changed  to  something  more 
respectable. 

If  you  have  never  been  to  Tewkesbury,  the  battle 
will  be  a  little  unreal  to  you.  You  may  know  perfectly 
well  "all  about  the  war,  and  what  they  killed  each  other 
for,"  and  you  may  even  be  a  partisan  of  either  White 
Rose  or  Red,  and  may  throw  up  your  cap  for  those  rival 

224 


THE   BATTLE   OF  TEWKESBURY 

Houses  of  York  or  Lancaster ;  but  if  you  have  never 
visited  the  scene  where  this  great  fight  raged,  it  will 
remain  shadowy.  But  in  Tewkesbury  town,  whose 
streets  are  still  astonishingly  rich  in  old  timbered  houses 
that  stood  on  the  morning  of  that  great  clash  of  arms 
where  they  do  now,  it  is  a  vital  thing. 

It  was  the  last  desperate  venture  of  the  Lancastrians, 
stricken  to  the  ground  on  many  an  earlier  occasion,  but 
always  hitherto  recovering,  to  try  conclusions  again, 
for  sake  of  right.  At  To^\i:on,  Blore  Heath,  Hexham, 
and  other  places  they  had  been  slaughtered,  and  such 
victories  as  Wakefield,  in  which  the  Yorkists  were 
decimated,  were  of  no  permanent  value.  Only  a  month 
before  Tewkesbury  they  had  been  signally  defeated  at 
Barnet,  and  their  cause  apparently  broken ;  but  here 
again  the  party  was  re-formed.  Queen  Margaret,  whose 
devotion  and  sorrows  are  among  the  inost  pitiful  records 
of  history,  had  come  from  France  with  her  son,  Prince 
Edward,  the  young  hope  of  the  Red  Rose.  Gathering 
a  force  at  Exeter,  they  advanced  towards  the  midlands, 
hoping  to  join  hands  with  Welsh  sympathisers.  But 
the  treacherous  Severn,  coming  down  from  those 
Mortimer  borderlands  where  the  White  Rose  had  ever 
been  strongest,  proved  itself  on  this  occasion  the  most 
useful  ally  of  the  Yorkists.  It  was  in  flood  and  pre- 
vented that  junction  of  the  two  Lancastrian  armies 
whose  combined  force  might  have  given  them  the  day 
and  changed  the  course  of  the  nation's  story. 

The  Yorkists,  commanded  by  Edward  the  Sixth,  came 
up  from  the  direction  of  Cheltenham  and  found  their 
opponents  drawn  up  on  the  "  plains  near  Tewkesbury," 
as  Shakespeare  has  it,  in  the  Third  Part  of  Henry  the 
Sixth.  The  battle  was  lost  to  the  Lancastrians  partly 
through  their  being  deceived  by  a  pretended  flight  of  the 
troops  commanded  by  Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
Q  225 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

and  in  a  great  measure  by  quarrels  among  themselves. 
Their  ranks  were  broken  and  the  battle  was  continued 
and  ended  by  fighting  and  heavy  slaughter  in  the  streets 
of  the  town.  Finally  the  defeated  Lancastrians  took 
refuge  in  the  Abbey  church,  from  which  they  would  have 
been  dragged  had  not  the  monks  in  solemn  procession 
prevented  it.  Shakespeare  adopts  Holinshed's  account 
of  the  death  of  Prince  Edward. 

Holinshed  tells  us  that  proclamation  being  made  that 
a  life -annuity  of  £100  should  be  paid  to  whoever  brought 
the  Prince,  dead  or  alive,  and  that,  if  living,  his  life 
should  be  spared,  Sir  Richard  Crofts  brought  him  forth, 
"  a  fair  and  well-proportioned  young  gentleman,  whom, 
when  King  Edward  had  well-advised,  he  asked  him  how 
he  durst  so  presumptuously  enter  his  realm  with  banner 
displayed,  whereupon  the  prince  boldly  answered, 
saying,  '  To  recover  my  father's  kingdom  and  heritage 
from  his  grandfather  to  him,  and  from  him  after  him  to 
me  lineally  descended  ' ;  at  which  words  King  Edward 
thrust  him  from  him,  or  (as  some  say)  stroke  him  with 
his  gauntlet,  whom  directly  George,  Duke  of  Clarence ; 
Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester ;  Thomas  Grey,  and 
William,  Lord  Hastings,  that  stood  by,  cruelly  murdered  ; 
for  the  which  cruel  act  the  more  part  of  the  doers  in 
their  latter  days  drank  the  like  cup  by  the  righteous 
justice  and  due  punishment  of  God.  His  body  was 
homely  interred  in  the  church  of  the  monastery  of  the 
black  monks  of  Tewkesbury." 

The  thanksgiving  of  the  next  day,  Sunday,  held  by 
the  Yorkists  in  the  Abbey  was  one  of  those  services 
in  which  the  victors  in  a  battle  have  always  adopted  the 
Almighty  as  a  partisan.  In  the  same  time-honoured 
fashion  the  King  of  Prussia,  delighting  in  the  defeats  of 
the  French  in  the  war  of  1870-71,  was  in  the  habit 
of   exclaiming    "  Gott   mitt   uns,"    and    sending   pious 

226 


Q   2 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

telegrams  to  the  Queen,  caricatured  by  the  humorist 
of  the  time — 

"  Rejoice  witli  me,  my  dear  Augusta, 
V\'e've  had  auotlier  awful  buster ; 
Ten  thousand  Frenchmen  sent  below — 
Praise  God  from  u-hom  all  blessings  flow  I  " 

The  thanksgiving  was  followed  next  day  by  a  ruthless, 
cold-blooded  massacre  of  those  who  had  been  hiding  in 
the  town.  On  the  Tuesday  the  great  nobles,  leaders 
in  the  fight,  were  executed,  and  the  Yorkist  vengeance 
was  complete. 

The  nodding  old  gabled  houses  of  Tewkesbury— many 
of  them  nodding  so  amazingly  that  it  is  surprising  they 
do  not  fall — include  a  number  of  ancient  inns  :  the 
"  Wheatsheaf  "  and  the  "  Bell  "  prominent  among 
them.  The  "  Bell,"  hard  by  the  Abbey  and  the  old 
flour-mills,  has  a  bowling-green  and  owns  associations 
with  Mrs.  Craik's  once-popular  story,  John  Halifax, 
Gentleman  :  which,  I  believe,  was  considered  eminently 
a  tale  for  the  young  person.  "  No,"  said  a  bookseller 
long  since,  in  my  own  hearing,  to  a  hesitating  prospective 
purchaser,  "it  is  not  a  novel  :  it  is  an  improving  story, 
and  may  be  read  on  Sundays."  I  do  not  know  what  is 
read  by  the  young  person  nowadays,  either  on  Sundays 
or  week-days,  but  I  am  quite  sure  it  is  not  John  Halifax, 
Gentleman,  and  I  am  equally  sure  that  the  young  person 
will  in  these  times  resent  any  choice  made  for  him  or 
her,  and  read  or  not  read  what  he  or  she  chooses.  But 
the  monument  to  Mrs.  Craik  in  the  Abbey  is  inscribed 
to  the  author  of  the  book,  and  as  it  is  evidently  a 
great  source  of  interest  to  visitors,  John  Halifax 
is  perhaps  not  quite  so  out-of-date  as  we  suppose  him 
to  be. 

The  "  Hop  Pole  "  and  the  "  Swan,"  in  their  present 
form,  belong  to  a  later  age ;    the  first  being  the  house 

228 


THE   'OLD   BLACK  BEAR' 

where  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  made  merry  and 
drank  so  astonishingly.  But  the  "  Old  Black  Bear," 
as  you  leave  the  town  for  Worcester,  is  easily  the  most 
picturesque  of  all ;  in  itself  and  in  its  situation  by  the 
rugged  old  Avon  bridge.  The  sign  was,  of  course, 
originally  that  of  the  "  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff." 


229 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Clopton  House — Billesley — Tlie  Home  of  Shakespeare's  Mother, 
Wilmcote  —  Aston  C'antlow  —  Woottoii  Waweu  —  Shakespeare 
Hall,  Rowiiigtou. 

There  is  a  mansion  of  much  local  fame  rather  more 
than  a  mile  out  of  Stratford,  off  the  Henley  road  :  the 
manor-house  of  Clopton,  for  long  past  the  seat  of  the 
Hodgson  family,  but  formerly  that  of  one  of  the  ancient 
families  of  Clopton,  who  are  found  not  only  in  Warwick- 
shire and  Gloucestershire,  but  in  Suffolk  as  well.  Wide- 
spread as  they  once  were,  I  believe  that  the  very  name  is 
now  extinct. 

There  is  necessarily  much  mention  of  the  Clopton 
name  in  these  pages,  for  Sir  Hugh  Clopton  was  the  great 
fifteenth-century  benefactor  of  Stratford.  He  was  a 
younger  son  of  the  o^vner  of  this  manor.  The  house 
has  been  time  and  again  altered  and  partly  rebuilt, 
but  it  still  contains  portraits  of  the  Cloptons  on  the  great 
Jacobean  staircase,  and  painted  on  the  walls  of  an 
attic,  once  used  as  a  secret  chapel  by  Roman  Catholics, 
are  to  this  day  the  black-letter  texts  upon  which  Ambrose 
Rookwood,  prominent  in  the  Gunpowder  Plot  of  1605, 
must  have  looked.  He  had  rented  Clopton  House  for 
a  time,  in  order  to  be  conveniently  near  his  friends,  and 
to  the  meeting-place  on  Dunsmore,  which  the  con- 
spirators had  appointed  the  scene  of  their  rebellion 
when  King  and  Parliament  should  have  been  blown  sky- 
high  by  Guy  Fawkes'  thirty-two  barrels  of  gunpowder. 
After   the   failure   of    the   plot    and   the   arrest  of   the 

230 


CLOPTON 

conspirators,  the  High  Baihff  of  Stratford  was  instructed 
to  seize  Ambrose  Rookwood's  effects  at  Clopton  House. 
An  inventory  of  them  is  preserved  in  the  Birthplace 
Museum  at  Stratford,  and  affords  some  quaint  reading. 
Chahces,  crosses,  crucifixes,  and  a  variety  of  obviously 
Papist  articles,  are  in  company  with  "  an  oulde  cloake 
bagge,"  whose  value  was  sixpence,  and  "  a  wliite 
nagge,"  twenty  shillings.  The  High  Bailiff  evidently 
cleared  the  house,  taking  all  he  could  find,  for  mention 
is  made  of  "  one  pair  of  old  boots,  2d.  these  being  the 
goods  of  Ambrose  Fuller."  There  is  a  further  note  that 
Ambrose  Fuller  had  his  old  boots  restored  to  him ;  the 
High  Bailiff  being  presumably  unable  to  find  anything 
treasonable  in  them. 

Shakespeare  is  said  to  have  taken  his  idea  of  Ophelia 
from  Margaret  Clopton,  who  in  the  misery  of  dis- 
appointed love  is  supposed  to  have  drowned  herself 
in  a  well  in  the  gardens  in  1592.  A  Charlotte  Clopton, 
too,  is  supposed  to  have  been  buried  alive  in  the  Clopton 
vault  in  Stratford  church  in  1564,  when  the  plague 
visited  the  neighbourhood,  and  thus  to  have  given 
Shakespeare  a  scene  in  Romeo  and  Juliet.  But  it  is 
only  fair  to  say  that  the  stories  are  legendary  and  not 
sustained  by  any  known  facts  in  the  Clopton  family 
history. 

From  Clopton  we  will  retrace  our  steps  to  Stratford, 
and  thence  set  out  anew,  to  visit  some  outlying  villages 
of  interest,  better  reached  from  the  road  to  Alcester. 

The  Alcester  road  is  the  least  interesting  road  out 
of  Stratford.  It  leads  past  the  Great  Western  Railway 
station,  and  thence  up  Red  Hill,  reaching  Alcester,  the 
Roman  Alauna,  in  seven  and  a  half  miles.  There  is 
little  joy  or  interest  to  be  got  out  of  Alcester,  which  is 
a  pleasant  enough  little  town  of  3500  inhabitants  and 
a  manufacture  of  needles,  but  not  thrilling.     There  is 

231 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

still  some  unenclosed  land  along  this  road,  on  the  left, 
a  rather  wild  upland  common — the  "  unshrubb'd 
down  " ;  and  it  is  a  tumbled  up  and  down  country  on 
the  right,  where  Billesley  stands.  Billesley  is  a  parish, 
with  a  parish  church  and  an  ancient  manor-house,  but 
no  village.  I  can  imagine  the  tourist — the  cyclist,  of 
course,  who  is  a  more  enterprising  person  than  most — 
saying,  as  he  sees  Billesley  on  the  map,  "  I  will  put  up 
there,"  and  I  can  imagine  him,  further,  getting  there 
under  circumstances  of  night  and  rain  and  wind,  and 
finding  it  to  be  the  most  impossible  of  places  to  stay  at. 
For  there  is  no  inn,  and  not  the  slightest  chance  of 
hospitality.  But  it  is  well  enough  if  you  come  to  it  in 
daytime,  for  it  has  the  charm  of  singularity  :  the  strange- 
ness of  the  old  manor-house  behind  its  lofty  enclosing 
garden-walls  and  the  weirdly  rebuilt  eighteenth-century 
church  at  the  end  of  a  farm-road  which  you  dispute  with 
porkers  and  cluttering  fowls.  Billesley  church  is  one 
of  the  claimants  for  the  honour  of  witnessing  Shake- 
speare's marriage,  but  on  what  evidence  the  claim  rests 
no  one  can  tell,  and,  in  any  case,  it  was  entirely  rebuilt 
afterwards.  The  tradition  is  probably  only  a  hazy 
association  with  the  marriage  of  his  grand -daughter, 
Elizabeth  Hall,  whose  wedding  took  place  in  the  former 
building  in  1639.  Little  belief,  either,  can  be  given  to 
the  panelled  room  in  Billesley  Hall,  said  to  have  been  a 
library  in  Shakespeare's  youth,  in  which  he  was  allowed 
to  study. 

Downhill  and  to  the  right,  and  you  come  to  Wilmcote, 
the  home  of  Shakespeare's  mother,  Mary  Arden.  It 
was  in  her  time  merely  a  hamlet  of  Aston  Cantlow,  but 
is  now  a  separate  ecclesiastical  parish,  with  an  un- 
interesting church.  Wilmcote  is  not  a  particularly 
inviting  place,  and  not  one  of  a  number  of  boys  playing 
cricket  could  tell  me  where  was  the  home  of  Shake - 

232 


WILMCOTE 

speare's  mother.  However,  in  a  place  like  Wilmcote  it 
does  not  take  long  to  solve  such  a  point,  even  if  it  were 
to  come  to  a  house-to-house  inquiry.  The  home  of  the 
Ardens,  yeomen-farmers,  seems  to  modern  ideas  quite 
a  humble  house.  It  is  one  of  a  row  of  ancient  timber- 
framed  and  plastered  cottage-like  houses,  with  a  large 
farmyard  at  the  back.     Rambling,  low-ceilinged  rooms 


THE    ARDEN    HOUSE,    HOME    OF    SHAKESPEARE  S    MOTHER,    WILMCOTE. 

with  ingle-nooks  in  the  fireplaces  form  the  interior. 
Some  day,  I  suppose,  when  the  Shakespeare  Birthplace 
Trust  has  ceased  to  expend  much  money  in  the  collection 
of  rare  editions  and  in  paying  fat  pensions  to  its  super- 
annuated servants,  it  will  seek  to  purchase  the  Arden 
home,  and  show  to  Shakespearean  travellers  the  house 
in  which  Robert  Arden,  a  sixteenth-century  yeoman  of 
some  standing  and  some  pretensions  to  gentility,  yet 
sat  at  table  with  his  farm-servants  in  the  old  way,  just  as 
in  the  remoter  parts  of  the  West  of  England  is  still  done. 

233 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  Wilmcote  is  the  place 
referred  to  by  Shakespeare  in  the  induction  to  the 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  as  "  Wincot."  The  name  is  locally 
pronounced  in  that  way,  as  it  would  be  when  we  consider 
the  difficulty  in  ordinary  rustic  speech  of  twisting  the 
tongue  round  "  Wilmcote."  But  reasons  are  given 
on  p.  169  for  identifying  it  with  Wincot  in  Quinton. 
There  is,  however,  another  place  which  claims  the  honour  ; 
the  unlovely  Wilnecote,  a  brick  and  tile -manufacturing 
settlement  on  the  Watling  Street,  over  twenty-five  miles 
distant.  It  also  is  locally  "  Wincot,"  and  in  Shake- 
speare's time  brewed  a  famous  tipple.  Sir  Aston 
Cokain,  whose  verses  were  published  as  near  Shake- 
speare's own  day  as  1658,  had  no  difficulty  in  identifying 
it.  Writing  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Clement  Fisher,  who 
resided  at  Wilnecote,  whom  he  addresses  "  of  Wincott," 
he  says — 

'^'^  Shakespeare  your  AV^incot  ale  liath  much  renowu'd 
Tliat  fox'd  a  beggar  so  by  chance  was  found 
Sleeping  that  there  needed  not  many  a  word 
To  make  him  to  believe  he  was  a  lord. 
But  you  affirm  (and  in  it  seem  most  eager) 
'Twill  make  a  Lord  as  drunk  as  any  beggar. 
Bid  Norton  brew  such  ale  as  Shakespeare  fancies. 
Did  put  Kit  Sly  into  such  lordly  trances  ; 
And  let  us  meet  there  for  a  lit  of  gladness, 
And  drink  ourselves  merry  in  sober  sadness." 

It  is  quite  evident,  among  other  things,  that  Sir  Aston 
Cokain  wrote  pretty  bad  verse,  but  the  point  to  be 
emphasised  is  that  there  were  certainly  in  Shakespeare's 
time  three  "  Wincots,"  any  one  of  which  might  have 
served  his  turn.  But  the  vanished  ale-house  of  Wincot 
in  Quinton  is  the  place  more  particularly  meant  by 
him. 

"  Stephen  Sly  "  alluded  to  in  the  play,  was  a  real 
person  who  seems  to  have  been  what  people  call  "  a 
character."     He  was  probably  a  half-witted  creature, 

234 


WOOTTON   WAWEN 

the  butt  of  Stratford,  and  occasionally  appears  in  the 
unimpeachable  records  of  the  town  as  a  servant  of  the 
Combes  of  Welcombe,  or  as  a  labourer.  There  also 
appears  in  those  same  chronicles  in  later  years  a  Joan 
Sly,  who  was  fined  in  1630  for  travelling  on  the  Sabbath  : 
an  offence  not  so  great  in  itself,  but  very  reprehensible 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Puritan  magistrates  of  that  time. 

The  parent  village  of  Aston  Cantlow  is  two  miles 
from  Wilmcote.  The  site  only  of  the  ancient  castle  of 
the  Cantilupes  remains,  behind  the  church,  in  a  tangled 
moat  still  sometimes  flooded  by  the  little  river  Alne. 
The  old  Court  House,  a  long  half-timbered  building 
now  divided  into  three  or  four  cottages,  is  the  chief 
feature  of  the  village  street. 

Wootton  Wawen,  in  something  less  than  another  three 
miles,  owes  the  first  part  of  its  singular  name  to  its 
olden  situation  in  the  Forest  of  Arden,  and  the  second 
part  to  the  Saxon  lord  of  the  place,  a  landowner  named 
Wagen,  whose  name  appears  as  witness  to  the  founda- 
tion charter  of  the  monastery  at  Coventry  founded  by 
Leofric,  the  husband  of  Godiva,  in  1043.  It  stands  at  a 
junction  of  roads,  where  the  highway  from  Stratford 
through  Bearley  comes  swinging  up  round  a  corner 
from  the  channels  of  the  Alne,  and  runs,  broad  and 
imposing,  on  to  Henley-in- Arden  and  Birmingham. 
The  church,  occupying  a  knoll,  is  a  strange  but  beautiful 
group,  with  central  tower  in  the  Decorated  style,  a  rather 
plain  south  chapel  of  the  same  period,  and  a  beautiful 
nave  clerestory  of  the  fifteenth  century.  A  very  large 
Decorated  chancel  east  window  has  its  moulding  set 
with  elaborate  crockets. 

The  stranger,  attracted  by  this  noble  church,  tries 
the  door.  It  is  locked,  but  before  he  can  turn  away  it 
will  be  opened  by  a  girl,  who  says,  "  There  is  a  fee  of 
sixpence."     There  always  is  ! 

235 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

You  render  tribute  for  sake  of  seeing  the  interior, 
uneasily  suspecting  that  it  is  another  sixpence  gone 
towards  some  scheme  of  alteration  which  would  not 
have  your  approval ;  but  these  things  cannot  be  helped. 
The  interior  discloses  some  unexpected  features,  the 
lower   part  of    the  tower   being    unmistakably   Saxon 


SHAKESPEARE    HALL,    RO\\^NGTON. 


work,  \\'ith  very  narrow  arches  to  nave  and  chancel. 
Here  are  two  curious  enclosed  carved  oak  pews  that 
were  perhaps  originally  chantries,  and  a  fine  fifteenth- 
century  oak  pulpit.  A  desk  with  eight  chained  books, 
and  an  ancient  chest  with  ironwork  in  the  shape  of 
fleurs-de-lis,  together  with  effigies  and  brasses  to  the 
Harewell  family,  complete  an  interesting  series  of 
antiquities.  Here  is  buried  William  Somerville,  author 
of  The  Chase,  who  died  in  1742. 

236 


'SHAKESPEARE   HALL' 

The   town  of   Henley-in-Arden,    with   its   broad  and 
picturesque  street  and  the  "  White  Swan  "  inn,  is  much 
afflicted  in  these  latter  days  by  excessive  motor  traffic 
from  Birmingham.     Beaudesert,  a  seat  of  the  Marquis 
of  Anglesey,  adjoins  it,  and  Preston  Bagot,  on  the  east, 
lies  in  a  once-remote  district.     The  sign  of  the  "  Crab 
Mill  "  inn,  on  the  way,  alludes  to  a  former  manufacture 
of  cider  here.     The  old  manor-house  of  Preston  Bagot, 
beside  the  road,  is  locally  said  to  have  been  the  first 
house  built  in  the  Forest  of  Arden,  but  of  that  we  cannot, 
obviously,  be  at  all  sure.     There  is  a  house  about  four 
miles  onward,  at  Rowington  Green,  on  the  other  side 
of  Rowington,  which  looks,  in  parts,  older.     It  is  the 
romantic-looking  house  known  as  "  Shakespeare  Hall," 
for  many  years  a  farmhouse,  but  now  the  residence  of 
Mr.  J.  W.  Ryland,  F.S.A.     It  dates  back  to  the  early 
part  of  the  fifteenth  century,   and  had  until  recently 
a  moat.     Traditionally,  it  was  the  home  of  one  Thomas 
Shakespeare,  a  brother  of  William  Shakespeare's  father ; 
and  Shakespeare  is  further  said  to  have  composed  As 
You  Like  It  in  the  room  over  the   porch.     We  need 
not  believe  that  tradition,  which  has  no  evidence   to 
warrant   it,  although  the    house  was    once  the    home 
of  one  of    the  very  numerous  Shakespeare    families  in 
Arden,  the  poet's  family  were  relations.     The  massive 
horseman's  "  upping-block  "  has  been  allowed  to  remain, 
beside  the  front-door. 


237 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

^V^elcombe — Snitterfiekl — ^^'^arwick — Leicester's  Hospital — St.    Mary's 
Cliurcli  and  the  Beauchamp  Chapel. 

The  distance  between  Stratford  and  Warwick  is  eight 
miles,  and  the  road,  the  broad  highway,  runs  direct. 
It  is  an  excellent  road,  but  for  those  who  do  not  care 
overmuch  for  main  routes,  however  beautiful,  in  these 
times,  a  more  excellent  way,  for  a  portion  of  the  journey 
at  any  rate,  is  by  Snitterfield.  You  turn  off  to  the  left 
from  the  tree-bordered  main  road  at  a  point  a  mile  and 
a  half  from  Stratford,  well  in  view  of  the  lofty  obelisk 
on  the  hillside  at  Welcombe  which  was  built  in  1873 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  obscure  person,  a 
certain  Mark  Phillips,  who  had  erected  the  mansion  of 
Welcombe  Lodge  in  1869.  Without  the  aid  of  this 
monument  he  would  by  now  have  been  completely 
forgotten ;  but  it  is  120  feet  in  height  and  prominently 
visible  from  amazing  distances,  and  so  its  object  is 
attained.  Not  perhaps  exactly  in  the  way  originally 
intended,  for  being  in  a  district  where  most  things  are 
associated  in  some  way  with  Shakespeare,  it  is  generally 
supposed  to  be  one  of  them,  and  when  the  disappointed 
stranger  finds  himself  thus  deluded,- he  usually  reflects 
upon  Mark  Phillips  in  the  most  scathing  terms. 

Up  at  Welcombe  are  those  Dingles  already  referred 
to.  The  way  to  Snitterfield  takes  you  uphill,  past  lands 
that  once  belonged  to  Shakespeare,  and  by  a  pond  which 
is  all  that  is  left  of  the  lake  of  Snitterfield  Hall,  a  mansion 
demolished    in    1820.     Here    the    road    has  reached    a 

238 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

considerable  height,  commanding  beautiful  views  down 
over  the  valley  of  the  Avon  at  Hampton  Lucy  and 
Charlecote. 

Snitter field  village  is  embowered  amid  elms.  The 
church  is  a  rustic  building  in  the  Decorated  style,  with 
seventeenth-century  pulpit  and  enriched  woodwork  of 
the  same  period  furnishing  the  altar -rails.  Here  the 
Rev.  Richard  Jago  was  vicar  for  twenty  years,  dying 
in  1781.  His  duties  did  not  bear  heavily  upon  him,  and 
he  occupied  most  of  his  time  in  ^\Titing  a  long  poem, 
"  Edgehill,  or  the  Rural  Prospect  Delineated  and 
Moralised,"  a  published  work  which  no  one  ever  reads, 
the  prospect  of  moralising  held  forth  on  the  title-page 
scaring  the  timid.  His  vicarage  remains,  and  on  its 
lawn  are  still  the  three  silver  birches  planted  by  his 
three  daughters.  There  are  some  beautiful  lime-trees 
and  an  ancient  yew  in  the  churchyard.  No  relic  of 
Henry  Shakespeare,  William  Shakespeare's  uncle,  or 
of  his  father  or  grandfather,  who  lived  at  Snitterfield, 
now  remains. 

The  road  now  trends  to  the  right,  and,  steeply  de- 
scending, regains  the  main  route  into  Warwick.  The 
town  of  Warwick  looms  nobly  before  the  traveller 
approaching  from  the  west.  The  broad  level  highway 
makes  direct  for  it,  and  over  the  trees  that  border  the 
road  you  see,  as  a  first  glimpse  of  the  historic  place,  the 
lofty  tower  of  St.  Mary's  church,  rising  apparently 
an  enormous  height,  and  looking  a  most  worshipful 
specimen  of  architecture.  On  a  nearer  approach  it 
sinks  into  less  prominence,  and,  passing  through  an 
old  suburb,  with  a  porch-house  on  the  right,  formerly 
the  "  Malt-Shovel  "  inn,  the  West  Gate  of  the  town, 
with  its  chapel  above  it,  takes  prominence. 

The  West  Gate  is  one  of  the  two  surviving  ancient 
gateways  of  Warwick  and  leads   steeply  up  into  the 

240 


LEICESTER  S   HOSPITAL:    THE    CdUKTVAKO. 


[To  face  p.  '240. 


LEICESTER'S   HOSPITAL 

town  beneath  a  rude-ribbed  arch  of  great  massiveness, 
based  sturdily  upon  the  dull  red  sandstone  rock.  It  is 
a  very  picturesque  and  in  every  way  striking  composition, 
and  if  it  were  not  for  the  even  more  picturesque  scene 
provided  by  Leicester's  Hospital,  just  within  the  gate, 
would  be  often  illustrated.  But  the  nodding  black 
and  white  gables  of  that  almshouse  effectually  attract 
the  greater  notice.  The  West  Gate,  with  the  chapel 
above,  dates  from  about  1360.  Nowadays  it  is  almost 
only  the  curious  visitor  who  passes  through  the  long, 
tunnel-like  arch,  gazing  with  astonishment  at  the 
sudden  outcrop  of  rock  on  which  the  building  stands, 
and  at  the  ribbed  stone  roof  supporting  the  chapel. 
A  roadway  has  been  made  to  the  right  of  the  gate, 
through  the  town  walls,  and  the  traffic  goes  that  way 
by  choice,  obscuring  the  ancient  defensive  function 
and  importance  of  this  entrance  to  the  rown.  A  chapel 
also  occupies  the  like  position  over  the  East  Gate,  and 
shows  that  the  people  of  Warwick  prayed  as  well  as 
watched. 

The  Leicester  Hospital,  so-called  because  founded  by 
Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  looks  down  with 
admirable  effect  from  its  elevated  position  on  the  left 
hand,  as  you  come  up  into  the  town ;  but  it  would  look 
even  better  if  it  were  properly  kept.  It  very  urgently 
needs  a  thorough  overhauling,  not  in  the  necessity  for 
any  structural  repairs,  but  with  the  object  of  treating 
the  buildings  in  a  sympathetic  and  cultured  way. 
There  is  a  vast  difference  between  photographic  views 
of  what  is  called,  in  the  Wardour  Street  way,  "  Ley- 
cester's  "  Hospital,  and  the  actual  effect  of  looking  upon 
the  place  with  one's  own  eyes.  The  Hospital,  in"  fact, 
looks  very  much  better  in  photographs  than  it  reveals 
itself  to  the  disappointed  gaze :  simply  because  those 
responsible  for  the  upkeep  of  it  do  not  understand 
K  241 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

how  to  treat  the  old  timbers,  and  have  smeared  them 
over  with  black  paint. 

This  Hospital  or  Almshouse  occupies  the  site  of  the 
ancient  united  religious  and  charitable  guilds  of  Holy- 
Trinity  and  St.  George -the -Martyr,  ^vith  some  of  their 
surviving  buildings.  These  united  fraternities  had 
numerous  activities.  They  supported  the  priests  who 
served  in  the  chapels  over  East  and  West  gates,  and 
contributed  towards  the  keep  of  others  in  the  parish 
church ;  being  also  largely  responsible  for  the  mainten- 
ance of  the  great  bridge,  now  and  for  long  past  in  ruins, 
which  carried  the  Banbury  road  across  the  Avon,  in 
front  of  Warwick  Castle.  They  also  supported  eight 
poor  persons  of  the  Guild.  In  common  with  all  other 
religious,  or  semi-religious  institutions,  the  Guild  was 
dissolved  in  the  time  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  its 
buildings  were  granted  by  Edward  the  Sixth  to  Sir 
Nicholas  le  Strange,  from  whom  Dudley  acquired  them ; 
or,  according  to  another  version  of  these  transactions, 
Dudley  had  a  gift  of  them  direct  from  the  town  of 
Warwick,  to  which  the  Guild  had  voluntarily  transferred 
its  property.  This  gift  to  the  magnificent  Dudley,  the 
newly-created  Earl  of  Leicester  and  possessor  of  vast 
wealth  and  power,  was  not  for  his  own  personal  advan- 
tage, but  for  the  purpose  of  helping  him  to  establish 
an  almshouse,  which  he  at  once  proceeded  to  do,  in  the 
interest  of  "  twelve  impotent  persons,  not  having  above 
£5  per  annum  of  their  own,  and  such  as  either  had  been, 
or  should  be  maimed  in  the  warrs  of  the  Queen,  her 
service,  her  heirs  and  successors,  especially  under  the 
conduct  of  the  said  Earl  or  his  heirs,  or  had  been  tenants 
to  him  and  his  heirs,  and  born  in  the  Counties  of  Warwick 
or  Gloucester,  or  having  their  dwelling  there  for  five 
years  before ;  and  in  case  there  happen  to  be  none  such 
hurt    in    the    Warrs,   then    other  poor    of    Kenilworth, 

242 


LEICESTER'S  HOSPITAL 

Warwick,  Stratford  super  Avon  in  this  county,  or  of 
Wootton  under  Edge  or  Erlingham  in  Gloucestershire, 
to  be  recommended  by  the  Minister  and  Churchwardens 
where  they  last  had  their  aboad;  which  poor  men  are 
to  have  Liveries  (viz.  Gowns  of  blew  cloth,  with  a 
Ragged  Staff  embroydered  on  the  left  sleeve)  and  not 
to  go  into  the  Town  without  them." 

Leicester  and  his  magnificence,  and  all  the  direct 
lineage  of  the  Dudleys  have  disappeared  long  ago. 
Leicester  himself,  and  after  him  his  brother  Ambrose, 
died  childless,  and  the  patronage  of  the  Hospital  passed 
to  their  sister  Mary,  who  married  Sir  Henry  Sidney  of 
Penshurst.  Thence  it  has  descended  to  Lord  de  L'isle 
and  Dudley,  the  present  representative  of  the  Dudleys 
and  the  Sidneys. 

The  entrance  is  by  a  stone  gateway  bearing  the 
inscription  "  Hospitivm  Collegiatvm  Robert!  Dvdlei 
Comitis  Leycestriae  1571."  The  great  Dudley's  pictur- 
esque buildings  deserve  to  be  better  kept,  for  they  are 
among  the  daintiest  examples  of  highly  enriched  half- 
timbering  in  England.  Passing  beneath  an  archway 
with  a  sundial  overhead,  you  enter  a  small  quadrangle 
with  a  quaint  staircase  on  one  side,  and  gables  with 
elaborate  pierced  verge -boards  looking  down  upon  the 
scene.  The  famous  Warwick  badge  of  the  Bear  and 
Ragged  Staff  surmounts  the  finials  and  lurks  under  the 
eaves,  in  frequent  repetition,  together  with  the  Porcu- 
pine, that  of  the  Sidneys.  On  the  further  side,  over 
the  windows  of  the  Master's  Lodge,  is  the  painted 
inscription,  "  Honour  all  men ;  love  the  brotherhood ; 
fear  God ;  and  honour  the  King,"  a  quadripartite  in- 
junction which  we  may  confidently  affirm,  no  man  ever 
yet  observed.  Our  own — but  much  more  other  people's 
— natures  will  have  to  be  very  greatly  amended  before 
we  are  prepared  to  "  honour  all  men." 
R  2  243 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

You  pay  sixpence  to  be  shown  over  the  Hospital, 
and  one  of  the  twelve  bedesmen  acts  as  guide  to  the 
buildings  and  the  very  miscellaneous  collections  ac- 
cumulated in  them.  Nowadays  the  "  blue  gown  "  has 
become  black,  and  the  Bear  and  Ragged  Staff  badge 
is  in  silver,  instead  of  embroidery.  A  welcome  change 
has  come  over  their  headgear.  Instead  of  the  more  or 
less  rusty  silk  hats  they  wore  during  the  greater  part 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  they  have  now  a  "  beefeater  " 
hat  similar  to  those  worn  by  the  Tower  warders  in 
London,  but  wholly  in  black.  The  bedesmen  no  longer 
dine  together  as  once  they  did,  but  each  separately 
in  his  own  quarters,  because  they  could  not  always 
obey  the  injunction  to  "  love  the  brotherhood,"  and 
grew  cantankerous  in  company,  and  quarrelled;  but 
here  is  still  the  kitchen  they  have  in  common,  con- 
taining many  other  things  one  does  not  expect  to  find 
in  kitchens ;  an  odd  assortment,  a  Malay  ki'is,  a  Russian 
helmet  from  the  stricken  fields  of  the  Crimea,  an  oak 
cabinet  from  Kenilworth  Castle,  and  a  framed  piece  of 
needlework  said  to  have  been  executed  by  Lady  Robert 
Dudley,  whom  "  historians  "  will  persist  in  styling 
either  by  her  maiden  name.  Amy  Robsart,  or  else  by 
the  title  of  Countess  of  Leicester,  she  having  died  or  been 
murdered  many  years  before  her  husband  became  an 
Earl.  Perhaps  we  had  better  emphasise  the  word  said. 
Beneath  that  framed  piece  of  needlework  is  a  Saxon — 
more  or  less  Saxon — chair.  A  piece  of  Gibraltar  rock, 
polished,  is  a  further  item  displaying  the  catholicity  of 
taste  displayed  here,  together  with  the  muskets  with 
which  the  inmates  of  the  Hospital  were  armed  when  the 
Chartist  rising  was  supposed  to  threaten  the  security 
of  Warwick. 

The  banqueting  hall,  a  surviving  portion  of  the  old 
Guild  buildings,  very  greatly  needs  restoration.     It  has 

244 


ST.   MARY'S 

been  grossly  used  and  subdivided,  the  Minstrel  Gallery- 
having  been  taken  out  of  it  in  order  to  provide  a  fine 
additional  room  for  the  Master's  residence;  the  Master 
being,  of  course,  a  clergyman  with  a  fine  fat  stipend : 
the  person  who  has  the  very  best  of  it  at  Leicester's 
Hospital.  In  this  once-beautiful  banqueting  hall,  with 
its  noble  roof  of  Spanish  chestnut,  whitened  with  age, 
James  the  First  was  entertained  by  Fulke  Greville  in 
1617.     Coal-bins  and  wash-houses  now  subdivide  it. 

Flights  of  stone  stairs  lead  up  from  the  Hospital  over 
the  West  Gate  and  into  the  chapel,  a  fine  spacious 
building  where  the  twelve  old  men  have  to  attend 
every  week-day  morning  at  ten  o'clock  and  listen  to  the 
perfunctory  service  read  by  the  Master.  In  addition 
to  this  spiritual  treat,  they  attend  service  at  the  parish 
church  on  Sundays.  There  is  nothing  to  say  about  the 
interior  of  the  chapel ;  it  was  "  restored  "  by  Sir  Gilbert 
Scott,  and  so  there  would  not  be. 

For  dulness  and  pretentious  ugliness  combined,  the 
town  of  Warwick  would  be  difficult  to  match;  and  the 
ugliest  and  dullest  part  of  it  is  that  main  street  called 
Jury  Street,  stretching  between  the  West  Gate  and  the 
East.  The  ugliness  is  due  to  the  great  fire  of  1694, 
which  destroyed  a  great  part  of  the  town  and  necessi- 
tated a  rebuilding  at  a  period  when  architects  were 
obsessed  with  the  idea  of  designing  "  stately  "  buildings. 
What  they  considered  stately  we  nowadays  look  upon 
with  a  shudder  and  style  heavy  and  unimaginative. 

But  the  weirdest  building  in  the  town  is  that  parish 
church  of  St.  Mary  whose  tower  looks  in  the  distance 
so  stately.  There  were  once  ten  churches  in  Warwick 
and  there  are  now  but  two.  St.  Mary's  was  almost 
entirely  destroyed  in  the  great  fire,  in  consequence  of 
the  frightened  townsfolk  storing  their  furniture  in 
it,  for  safety.     The  church  itself  was  not  threatened, 

245 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

but  some  of  the  articles  hurriedly  placed  in  it  were 
alight,  and  thus  it  shared  the  fate  of  much  else. 

The  rebuilding  of  St.  Mary's  was  completed  in  1704) 
as  an  inscription  on  the  tower  informs  us.  I  think  those 
who  placed  that  inscription  here  intended  a  Latin  pun, 
a  play  upon  the  name  of  Queen  Anne  and  the  word 
anno,  for  "year";  for  thus  it  runs:  "  Annaeauspiciis 
A°  memorabili  1704."  One  scarcely  knows  which  is 
the  more  deplorable,  the  building  or  the  pun ;  the  first, 
probably,  because  not  every  one  can  see  the  play  upon 
words,  but  the  tower  is  an  outrage  impossible  to  escape* 

The  bulk  and  loftiness  of  it  are  majestic,  but  its 
classic  details  in  a  Gothic  framework  have  a  curious 
effect  on  the  beholder.  They  seem,  those  unhallowed 
pagan  alcoves,  mounting  stage  by  stage  toward  the 
skies,  like  some  blasphemous  insinuation.  The  nave 
and  transepts,  rebuilt  at  the  same  time,  are,  oddly 
enough,  not  nearly  so  offensive,  and  it  is  rather  a  hand- 
some as  well  as  imposing  interior  that  meets  the 
stranger's  gaze.  It  may  be  that  it  seems  so  much  better 
because,  warned  by  the  outside,  one  expects  so  much 
worse.  That  familiar  ornament  in  classic  architecture, 
the  "  egg  and  dart,"  is  an  incongruous  detail  when 
worked  into  the  capitals  of  columns  in  which  the  Gothic 
feeling  predominates,  and  it  sounds  quite  shocking  when 
described ;  but  here  it  comes  with  a  pleasing,  if  scarcely 
ecclesiastical  effect  in  this  fine  and  well-proportioned 
interior. 

The  chancel  of  St.  Mary's,  together  with  the  chapter- 
house on  the  north  side  of  it  and  the  Beauchamp 
Chapel  on  the  south,  escaped  the  fire,  and  remain  un- 
injured to  this  day.  It  is  possible  to  peer  through  the 
locked  iron  gates  of  the  chancel  from  the  nave,  which  is 
the  only  portion  of  the  church  that  is  to  be  seen  without 
payment,  but  to  see  the  chapter-house,  and  the  Beau- 

246 


ST.    ^fARY'S 

r-hamp  C^hafx;!,  to  <\f:Sf/;u(\  to  t.hf:  crypt  and  f.o  mo^nit 
the  towor,  you  must,  pay  and  pay  and  pay  aj?ajn.  TTic 
cler(^  in  all  the  wide  rarJius  of  thie  Shak/ispeare  0>untry 
have  the  keenest  scent  for  sixpr^nees,  and  would  make 
excellent  business  men.  Better  business  men  thian 
cler^men,  for  all  I  know.  Tliey  have  long  sincM? 
learnt  to  charj/e  and  to  keep  their  doors  locked  until 
their  charj^cs  are  satisfied;  and  none  understand  the 
business  better  than  those  whjr>  have  the  k/:;epinf(  of 
St,  Marv's  at  Warwick.  But  when  you  have  paid  for 
this  and  for  that  and  for  t'other,  and  are  restinjj  and 
reading?,  and  possih»ly  makinj?  notes  in  the  nave,  it  is 
UToss,  T  say,  and  offensive  and  blackjruardly  to  h>e 
followed  up  and  spied  upon  and  to  tx;  asked  if  you  are 
sketching !  '*  Because  if  you  are  it  will  be  half-a- 
crown."  I  will  now  leave  this  unsavoury  subject, 
wishing  the  clergy  and  churchwardens  of  St.  Mary's 
more  enlightenment  and  the  people  they  employ  better 
discretion. 

The  clrmncj:],  or  choir,  founded  by  Thomas  Beauehamp, 
twelfth  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  died  1360,  is  a  stately 
Perpendicnjlar  work,  with  the  altar-t/)mb  of  the  founder 
and  his  wife  Katharine,  who  died  the  same  vear,  in  the 
middle.  His  armoured  effigy,  with  crosses  crosslet  dis- 
played on  the  breastplate,  rests  its  feet  upon  a  bear,  and 
at  the  feet  of  his  wife  is  a  lamb.  He  holds  his  wfe's 
hand. 

Around  the  tomb,  in  niches,  are  small  figures  repre- 
senting members  of  the  family,  thirty-six  in  all.  In  a 
grave  near  by,  unmarked  by  any  monument  or  in- 
scription, lies  William  Parr,  brother  of  Katharine  Parr, 
last  and  surviving  wife  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  He  was 
created  Marquis  of  Northampton,  and  died  in  1.571, 
sunk  to  such  poverty  that  no  money  was  forthcoming 
to  bury  him.     A  few  years  later.  Queen  Elizabeth  found 

247 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

a  trifle,  and  he  was  decently  interred,  but  no  one  ever 
thought  it  worth  while  to  mark  his  resting-place. 

Passing  the  greatly-enriched  Easter  Sepulchre  in  the 
north  wall,  the  Chapter  House  is  entered  by  a  corridor. 
In  the  centre  of  this  building  stands  the  enormous 
monument  to  Fulke  Greville,  Lord  Brooke,  who  was 
murdered  by  his  man-servant  in  1628.  "  Delaying  to 
reward  one  Hayward,  an  antient  servant  that  had  spent 
the  most  of  his  time  in  attendance  upon  him,"  says 
Dugdale,  "  he  received  a  mortall  stab  in  the  back  by  the 
same  man,  then  private  with  him  in  his  bed-chamber 
at  Brooke  House  in  London,  30th  Sept.  ann.  1628,  who, 
to  consummate  the  tragedy,  went  into  another  room, 
and,  having  lockit  the  dore,  pierced  his  own  bowells 
with  a  sword." 

The  crypt  is  the  oldest  part  of  St.  Mary's,  with  Norman 
pillars.  It  contains  the  old  ducking-stool  for  scolding 
women. 

The  entrance  to  that  most  gorgeous  relic  of  old  St. 
Mary's,  the  Beauchamp  Chapel,  which  is  the  principal 
item  in  the  list  of  these  ecclesiastical  showmen,  is  on  the 
east  side  of  the  south  transept.  The  mortuary  magnifi- 
cence of  the  Beau  champs  obscures  the  dedication  of  the 
Chapel  to  Our  Lady,  and  the  generations  that  have 
passed  since  the  building  of  it  between  the  years  1443 
and  1464,  and  its  final  consecration  in  1475,  have  rightly 
agreed  to  style  it  by  the  name  by  which  it  now,  and 
always  has  been,  popularly  known.  It  reminds  one 
very  keenly  of  the  insincere  modern  cant  phrase  which 
forms  the  dedication  of  memorial  stained-glass  windows. 

"  To  the  Glory  of  God  and  to  the  memory  of  ,"  a 

shabby  sop  to  the  Almighty  at  which  the  soul  revolts. 
The  very  entrance  is  obviously  proprietary,  and  shows 
us  that  this  is  really  the  Beauchamp  mausoleum.  It  is 
a  magnificent  entrance,  a  very  highly-enriched  work  in 

248" 


THE   BEAUCHAIMP  CHAPEL 

panelled  and  sculptured  stone,  with  the  Warwick  Bear 
and  Ragged  Staff  on  either  side,  facing  the  Beauchamp 
shield  of  crosses  crosslet.  Near  it,  on  the  wall,  and  green 
with  neglect,  is  the  fine  brass  to  Thomas  Beauchamp, 
thirteenth  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  died  in  1401,  and  of  his 
wife  Margaret,  who  died  1406.  It  seems  strange  that 
out  of  all  the  money  contributed  by  visitors,  and  chiefly 
on  account  of  the  Beauchamp  monuments,  there  cannot 
be  some  small  surplus  set  aside  for  a  restoration  of  the 
altar -tomb  on  which  these  figures  were  placed  up  to  that 
time  when  the  great  fire  destroyed  it  and  much  of  the 
church.  It  is  not  well  that  so  fine  an  example  should 
remain  on  a  wall ;  the  most  unsuitable  position  for  a 
monumental  brass.  The  Earl,  who  is  given  the  old 
original  name  of  the  Norman  Beauchamps  who  came 
over  with  the  Conqueror — "  Bellocampo,"  meaning  "  fair 
field  " — is  in  complete  armour,  which  has,  besides  the 
crosses  crosslet  of  the  family  arms,  a  decorative  border 
of  ragged  staves  around  his  helmet.  The  Countess  is 
habited  in  an  heraldic  mantle  of  crosses  crosslet. 

This  Thomas  Beauchamp  was  not  so  great  or  dis- 
tinguished a  man  as  his  son,  in  whose  honour  the 
Beauchamp  Chapel  was  erected. 

The  Beauchamp  Chapel  is  slightly  below  the  level 
of  the  south  transept  and  is  entered  down  a  flight  of 
steps.  Photographs  give  an  exaggerated  idea  of  its 
size,  but  scarcely  do  justice  to  its  beauty  and  the  extreme 
richness  of  its  details,  still  remarkable,  although  the 
ancient  coloured  glass  has  been  mostly  destroyed  and 
the  golden  images  of  the  altar  have  disappeared.  It  is 
indeed  due  to  the  second  Lord  Brooke,  who  although  a 
partisan  of  the  Cromwellian  side  during  the  Civil  War, 
was  naturally  keen  to  preserve  the  glories  of  Warwick, 
that  the  Chapel  was  not  wholly  destroyed  in  that  age  of 
tumults.     Lord  Brooke  was  the  son  of  that  Sir  Fulke 

249 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Greville,  first  Baron  Brooke,  to  whom  James  the  First 
had  granted  Warwick  Castle  in  1605,  and  he  no  doubt 
looked  upon  the  Beauchamps  as  ancestors,  although 
there  was  never  the  remotest  connection  between  that 
ancient  martial  family  and  his  own,  the  Grevels,  or 
Grevilles,  who  descend  from  the  old  avooI -merchants  of 
the  name  at  Chipping  Campden  and  elsewhere  in  the 
Cotswolds.  He  adopted  them,  and  took  them  over,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  Castle ;  and  a  good  thing  too,  for 
these  old  monuments,  that  they  had  so  fortunate  an 
adoption. 

The  building  is  in  the  middle  period  of  the  Perpen- 
dicular style,  that  last  manifestation  of  the  Gothic  spirit 
and  the  feudal  ages,  and  is  elaborately  groined  in  stone. 
The  great  Richard  Beauchamp,  who  lies  here  in  these 
gorgeous  surroundings,  directed  by  will  the  building  of 
the  Chapel  and  the  erection  of  his  monument.  He  was 
the  greatest  as  yet  of  his  name,  and  appears  to  have 
been  perfectly  conscious  of  it,  if  we  may  judge  by  the 
state  in  which  he  ordained  to  lie.  He  was  also  to  prove 
the  greatest  to  all  time,  for  although  his  son  Henry  who 
succeeded  him  at  his  death  in  1439  was  created  Duke 
of  Warwick,  his  career  was  undistinguished  and  soon 
ended,  for  he  died  in  1445.  With  him  ended  the  long 
line  of  his  race. 

Richard  Beauchamp,  fourteenth  Earl  of  Warwick, 
whose  effigy  lies  here  in  lonely  magnificence  on  the 
altar-tomb  he  directed  to  be  made,  as  though  he  were 
too  great  a  personage  to  have  his  wife  beside  him,  was 
holder  of  the  greatest  offices  of  State  of  his  period.  The 
long  inscription  round  his  tomb  tells  us  of  some  of  these 
responsible  posts — 

"  Preieth  devoutly  for  the  Sowel  whom  god  assoille 
of  one  of  the  moost  worshipful  Knights  in  his  dayes 
of  monhode  and  conning  Richard  Beauchamp,  late  Earl 

250 


THE    GREAT   BEAUCHAMP 

of  Warrewik,  lord  Despenser  of  Bergevenny  and  of  mony 
other  grete  lordships  whos  body  resteth  here  vnder  this 
tumbe  in  a  fulfeire  vout  of  stone  set  on  the  bare  rooch 
the  whuch  visited  with  longe  siknes  in  the  Castel  of  Roan 
therinne  decessed  ful  cristenly  the  last  day  of  April  the 
yer  of  oure  lord  god  A  niccccxxix,  he  being  at  that  tyme 
Lieutenant  gen'al  and  governer  of  the  Roialme  of  ffraunce 
and  of  the  Duchie  of  Norinandie  by  sufficient  Autorite 
of  oure  Sou'aigne  lord  the  King  Harry  the  vi.,  the  whuch 
body  with  grete  deliberacon'  and  ful  worshipful  conduit 
Bi  See  And  by  lond  was  broght  to  Warrewik  the  iiii  day 
of  October  the  yer  aboueseide  and  was  leide  with  ful 
solemn  exequies  in  a  feir  chest  made  of  stone  in  this 
Chirche  afore  the  west  dore  of  this  Chapel  according  to 
his  last  wille  and  Testament  therin  to  rest  til  this  Chapel 
by  him  devised  i'  his  liff  were  made  Al  the  whuche  Chapel 
founded  on  the  Rooch  And  alle  the  membres  thereof  his 
Execu tours  dede  fully  make  and  Apparaille  By  the 
Auctorite  of  his  Seide  last  Wille  and  Testament  And 
therafter  By  the  same  Auctorite  Theydide  Translate 
fful  worshipfully  the  seide  Body  into  the  vout  abouseide, 
Honured  be  god  therfore." 

History  comes  in  few  places  with  such  vivid  reality 
to  the  modern  person  as  it  does  here.  Unmoved, 
because  too  often  without  the  mental  agility  to  perceive 
the  significance  of  it,  we  look  upon  the  old  royal  arms 
of  England  as  they  were  for  centuries,  until  the  time  of 
George  the  Third,  and  see  the  quartering  of  the  Lions  of 
England  with  the  Lilies  of  France;  that  proud  boast, 
an  idle  pretension  long  before  Calais,  the  final  French 
possession  of  England,  was  lost,  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Mary.  But  standing  before  the  tomb  of  the  great 
Beauchamp,  and  reading  his  sounding  titles,  no  mere 
ornamental  designations,  but  the  veritable  responsible 
offices  of  State,  as  "  Lieutenant-General  and  Governor 

251 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN   SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

of  the  Realm  of  France  and  the  Duchy  of  Normandy," 
we  Hve  again  in  tremendous  days.  No  tomb  of  King 
or  Emperor  impresses  me  as  does  that  of  this  puissant 
representative  and  viceroy  of  such  sovereignty. 

Beneath  a  hooped  frame  or  "  hearse  "  of  gilded  brass 
which  formed  the  support  for  a  gorgeous  pall  of  crimson 
velvet  lies  the  effigy  of  this  great  soldier  and  statesman, 
also  in  brass,  once  highly  gilt.  His  bared  head  rests 
upon  his  helmet  and  his  feet  upon  a  griffin  and  a  muzzled 
bear,  and  the  Garter  is  on  his  left  leg.  The  arms  are 
raised  in  the  usual  attitude  of  prayer,  but  the  hands 
themselves  are  not  joined,  as  usual.  They  are,  instead, 
represented  apart,  in  the  priestly  pose  during  the  cele- 
bration of  mass. 

The  rich  crimson  velvet  pall  that  covered  the  effigy 
and  was  lifted  for  its  inspection  by  every  visitor,  was  at 
last  removed,  on  the  plea  of  the  injury  it  was  supposed 
to  be  causing  the  figure,  and  has  now  unaccountably 
disappeared. 

In  niches  around  the  altar -tomb  are  little  figures 
representing  his  family,  and  sons-  and  daughters-in-law : 
fourteen  in  all ;  such  great  names  as  Henry  Beauchamp, 
his  son  and  successor,  with  his  wife  Cicely;  Richard 
Neville,  Earl  of  Salisbury  and  his  wife  Alice ;  Richard 
Neville,  afterwards  Earl  of  Warwick  and  his  wife  Anne ; 
Edmund  Beaufort,  Duke  of  Somerset,  and  his  wife 
Eleanor ;  Humphrey  Stafford,  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
and  his  wife  Anne ;  John  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury, 
and  his  wife  INIargaret ;  and  George  Neville,  Lord 
Latimer,  with  his  wife  Elizabeth. 

Against  the  north  wall  of  the  Chapel  is  the  costly  and 
ostentatious  monument  of  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of 
Leicester,  rising  in  lofty  stages  of  coloured  marbles ;  a 
vulgar  piece  of  work.  The  effigies  of  Dudley  and  his 
wife    Lsetitia,   who    survived    him  forty-six  years  and 

252 


THE   LAST   OF  THE  DUDLEYS 

died  in  1634,  are  gorgeously  robed  and  painted  in  life- 
like fashion.  The  mantle  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter 
covers  his  armour,  and  the  Garter  itself  is  shown  on  his 
leg.  It  is  with  surpassing  interest  that  one  looks  upon 
the  chief  of  these  figures ;  that  Dudley  who  came  near 
being  King-Consort  of  Elizabeth,  and  died  in  1588,  at 
the  comparatively  early  age  of  fifty-four ;  the  vain  and 
magnificent  creature  suspected  of  the  murder  of  his  first 
wife  and  traditionally  poisoned  by  his  last,  who  is  said 
to  have  given  him  the  lethal  cup  he  had  intended  for 
herself.  A  long  Latin  epitaph  sonorously  recounts  his 
many  titles  and  honours,  with  the  hardy  belief  in  "a 
certain  hope  of  his  resurrection  in  Christ." 

Against  the  opposite  wall  is  the  altar-tomb  of  that 
"  noble  Impe,  Robert  of  Dudley,"  infant  son  of  the  last, 
who  died  in  his  fourth  year,  1584.  A  circlet  round  the 
brow  of  the  little  figure  bears  the  Leicester  badge,  the 
cinquefoil.  Last  of  the  Dudley  monuments  is  the  altar- 
tomb  of  Ambrose,  styled  the  "  good  Earl,"  in  tacit 
contradistinction  from  his  brother  Robert,  the  wicked 
one.  The  good  Ambrose  was  not  given  length  of  days, 
for  he  died  the  year  after  his  brother.  He  also  is  shown 
in  armour  and  wears  a  coronet  and  the  Garter.  How  he 
was  given  the  post  of  "  Mayster  of  the  Ordinaunce," 
made  Chief  Butler  of  England,  and  was  altogether  a 
personage  of  many  offices,  his  epitaph  tells.  With  him 
and  the  "  noble  Liipe,"  his  brother's  infant  son,  the 
legitimate  race  of  the  Dudleys  died. 


253 


CHAPTER   XXV 

^Varwick  Castle. 

The  great  Castle  of  Warwick,  now  the  seat  of  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Warwick,  who  formed  themselves  into 
a  Limited  Liability  Company  some  fifteen  years  ago, 
under  the  title  of  the  "  Warwick  Estates  Co.,  Ltd.,"  has 
been  the  seat  of  the  Grevilles  since  1605. 

The  origin  of  Warwick  Castle  goes  back  to  Ethelfleda, 
daughter  of  Alfred  the  Great  and  wife  of  the  then  Earl 
of  Mercia,  a  strenuous  and  warlike  lady,  to  whom  are 
attributed  many  ancient  works.  She  is  credited  with 
building  the  first  fortress  in  a.d.  915,  on  that  knoll  still 
known  as  "  Ethelfleda's  Mount,"  on  which  a  Norman  keep 
was  subsequently  erected,  perhaps  by  that  famous 
personage  Turchil.  In  the  family  of  Turchil  the 
cognisance  of  the  yet  more  famous  Bear  and  Ragged 
Staff  originated,  which  in  all  succeeding  generations 
has  descended  from  house  to  house  of  the  distinguished 
families  who  have  come  into  possession  of  Warwick 
Castle  :  the  Houses  of  Beauchamp,  Neville,  Dudley, 
Rich,  and  Greville  :  not  as  their  personal  badge,  but  as 
that  of  the  castellan  for  the  time  being  of  Warwick.  A 
fantastic  theory  has  been  set  afoot  that,  as  Siward,  son 
of  Turchil,  assumed  the  name  "  de  Arden,"  thus  founding 
the  numerous  knightly  family  of  Ardens,  Shakespeare, 
as  the  son  of  a  Mary  Arden,  was  probably  the  rightful 
owner  of  Warwick  Castle  !  We  may  safely  say  that 
this  never  occurred  to  Shakespeare  himself,  and  may 
add  him  to  one  of  that  numerous  class  slyly  alluded  to 

254 


GUY  OF  WARWICK 

by  Ingoldsby;  people  "kept  out  of  their  property  by 
the  rightful  owners." 

The  great  Guy  of  Warwick,  a  giant  in  stature  and 
doughty  in  deeds,  is  a  myth,  but  that  does  not  prevent 
his  armour  being  shown  in  the  Great  Hall  of  the  Castle. 
His  period  seems  to  be  placed  between  that  of  Ethelfleda 
and  Turchil,  for  the  date  of  his  death  is  put  at  a.d.  929. 
Mythical  though  he  is,  the  later  and  very  real  flesh-and- 
blood  Beauchamps,  who  came  into  possession  of  Warwick 
in  the  thirteenth  century,  w^ere  often  named  "  Guy  "  in 
allusion  to  him.  His  armour,  like  his  legendary  self, 
is  a  weird  accretion  of  time,  and  is  no  longer  displayed 
with  the  touching  belief  of  less  exacting  times.  The 
Age  of  Belief  is  dead,  they  say.  Of  belief  in  some  things 
incredible,  no  doubt.  He  wore,  according  to  the  articles 
seen  here,  not  only  armour  of  tremendous  size  and  weight, 
but  of  periods  ranging  from  three  hundred,  to  six 
hundred  and  ninety  years  after  his  death.  A  bascinet 
of  the  time  of  Edward  the  Third  covered  his  head,  his 
breastplate,  weighing  fifty  pounds,  is  of  the  latter  part 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  the  backplate  belongs  to  the 
Stuart  period.  His  shield  weighs  thirty  pounds;  his 
great  ponderous  sword,  five  feet  six  inches  long,  is  of 
the  time  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  "  Guy's  breakfast  cup, 
or  porridge-pot  "  is  equally  wonderful,  for  it  has  a 
capacity  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  gallons.  It  is  really 
an  ancient  iron  cauldron,  once  used  for  cooking  the 
rations  of  the  garrison. 

The  first  historical  Earl  of  Warwick  was  Henry  de 
Newburgh,  who  died  1123;  and  by  a  succession  of 
changes  and  failures  of  heirs  the  title  and  estates  came 
to  William  de  Beauchamp,  husband  of  the  daughter  of 
William  Mauduit. 

In  the  time  of  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  son  of  this 
William,    the    Castle    witnessed    some    stirring    scenes. 

255 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

The  discontented  nobles,  troubled  at  the  preference  given 
by  Edward  the  Second  to  his  foreign  favourite,  Piers 
Gaveston,  and  at  the  apparent  impossibility  of  perma- 
nently ridding  the  kingdom  of  him,  seized  that  pestilent 
foreigner  and  confined  him  for  a  short  time  in  a  dungeon 
here. 

The  favourite  was  by  no  means  an  acceptable  person 
to  the  English  barons,  who  although  all  directly  de- 
scended from  William  the  Conqueror's  Frenchmen,  had 
already  been  assimilated  by  this  wonderful  country  of 
ours,  and  were  as  English  as— well,  let  us  say  as  English 
as  any  German  Jew  Goldstein  or  Schlesinger  of  modern 
times  who,  coming  to  these  happy  shores,  suffers  a 
sea-change  into  something  rich  and  rare,  and  be- 
comes a  new  and  strange  "  Gordon,"  or  "  Sinclair." 
They  regarded  this  flippant  Gascon  from  the  south  of 
France  as  an  undesirable  of  the  worst  type,  and  could 
not  and  would  not  appreciate  his  jokes ;  a  natural 
enough  disability  when  you  come  to  consider  them,  for 
they  were  all  at  their  expense.  If  you  study  the  monu- 
mental effigies  of  those  mediaeval  barons  and  knights 
which  are  so  plentifully  dispersed  throughout  our 
country  churches,  you  will  readily  perceive  that  although 
they  were  frequently  very  magnificent  personages,  their 
countenances  do  not  often  show  any  trace  of  intellectual 
qualities.  Edward  the  Second  was  as  flippant  a  person 
as  his  favourite,  and  when  these  stupid  and  indignant 
barons  saw  them  laughing  together,  they  knew  very  well, 
or  keenly  suspected,  that  they  themselves  were  being 
laughed  at.  Did  not  this  Gaveston  fellow  call  the 
Earl  of  Lancaster  "  the  play-actor,"  or  "  the  fiddler," 
and  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  "  burst  belly."  Every  one 
knew  he  called  his  father-in-law  "  fils  a  puteyne,''  or 
"  whoreson."  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  was  "  the  black 
hound  of  Arden." 

256 


THE   'BLACK  DOG   OF  ARDEN ' 

"  Let  him  call  me  hound  :  one  day  the  hound  will 
bite  him,"  said  the  Earl.  Meanwhile,  Gaveston  went  on 
finding  nicknames  for  every  one,  and  made  himself 
bitterly  hated  by  those  dull-minded  barons  who  could 
not  joke  back  at  him.  The  worst  of  it  was,  his  lance  was 
as  keen,  and  went  as  straight  to  the  point,  as  his  gibes. 
It  was  little  use  meeting  him  in  single  combat,  for  he 
unhorsed  and  vanquished  the  best. 

Hence  this  seizure  of  the  hateful  person.  The  story 
of  it  is  told  by  Adam  Murimuth — 

"  The  King  wished  Peter  de  Gavestone  to  be  con- 
veyed to  him  by  Lord  Adamar  de  Valense,  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  for  safety;  and,  when  they  were  at  Danyn- 
tone  next  Bannebury,  the  same  Earl  sent  him  away  in  the 
night;  and  he  went  near  to  one  place  for  this  reason. 
And  on  the  morrow  in  the  morning  came  Guy,  Earl  of 
Warwyk,  with  a  low-born  and  shouting  band,  and 
awakened  Peter  and  brought  him  to  his  Castle  of  Warwyk 
and,  after  deliberation  with  certain  elders  of  the  king- 
dom, and  chiefly  with  Thomas,  Earl  of  Lancaster,  finally 
released  him  from  prison  to  go  where  he  would.  And 
when  he  had  set  out  from  the  town  of  Warwyk  even  to 
the  place  called,  somewhat  prophetically,  Gaveressich, 
he  came  there  with  many  men  making  a  clamor 
against  him  with  their  voices  and  horns,  as  against  an 
enemy  of  the  King  and  a  lawful  outlaw  of  the  Kingdom, 
or  an  exile ;  and  finally  beheaded  him  as  such  xix  day 
of  the  month  of  June." 

So  the  "  Black  Dog  "  did  indeed  bite  him  to  some  effect. 
This  tragic  spot,  is  a  place  called  Blacklow  Hill,  one 
mile  north  of  the  town.  A  monument  to  this  misguided 
humorist,  following  his  natural  propensities  in  a  land 
where  humour  is  not  appreciated,  was  erected  on  the 
spot  by  a  Mr.  Greathead,  of  Guy's  Cliff  House,  in  1821. 
The  inscription  itself  has  a  complete  lack  of  humour — 
s  257 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

"  In  the  hollow  of  this  rock  was  beheaded,  on  the 
first  day  of  July,  1312,  by  barons  as  lawless  as  himself, 
Piers  Gaveston,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  the  minion  of  a  hateful 
king,  in  life  and  death  a  memorable  instance  of  misrule." 

With  this  fierce  "  Black  Dog  of  Ai'den,"  whose  teeth 
were  so  sharp,  the  architectural  history  of  the  Castle 
becomes  clear.  He  repaired  and  strengthened  it,  after 
the  rough  handling  it  had  received  in  the  Barons'  War, 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Third ;  but  to  Thomas  de 
Beauchamp,  his  grandson,  is  due  Caesar's  Tower,  about 
1360,  and  it  was  his  son  Thomas,  who  built  Guy's 
Tower,  named  after  the  mjrthical  giant,  about  1394. 

It  costs  two  shillings  to  see  Warwick  Castle.  I 
believe  if  you  happen  to  be  a  resident  of  Warwick  or 
Leamington,  there  is  a  reduction  of  fifty  per  cent.  The 
entrance  is  not  so  old  as  it  looks,  and  was  cut  through 
the  rock  in  1800.  It  leads  to  the  gloomy  Barbican, 
whose  overhanging  walls  give  a  truly  mediaeval  approach 
and  form  the  completest  contrast  with  the  scene  that 
opens  beyond. 

The  visitor  enters  a  huge  courtyard,  now  one  vast 
lawn,  nearly  two  acres  in  area ;  with  the  residential 
portion  of  the  Castle  and  its  state-rooms  on  the  left. 
Ahead  is  Ethelfleda's  Mount,  and  on  the  right,  guarding 
the  curtain-wall  at  intervals,  are  Guy's  Tower ;  the 
incomplete  Bear  Tower,  with  its  mysterious  tunnel,  the 
work  of  Richard  the  Third ;  and  the  companion  Clarence 
Tower,  built  by  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  his  ill-fated 
brother,  murdered  in  the  Tower  of  London.  Beside 
Ethelfleda's  Mount  is  the  Hill  Tower. 

Immediately  to  the  left  of  the  entrance  are  the  brew- 
house,  laundry  and  then  Caesar's  Tower,  with  its 
gloomy  dungeon,  a  most  undesirable  place  of  residence 
with  vaulted  stone  roof  and  mouldy  smells,  meet  for 
repentance  and  vain  regrets.     Here  the  "  Black  Dog  " 

258 


PRISONERS'   INSCRIPTIONS 

imprisoned  the  flippant  Gaveston,  and  many  later 
generations  of  prisoners  passed  weary  times,  scratching 
their  not  very  legible  records  upon  the  walls  for  lack  of 
employment.  Among  them  is  the  record  of  one  "  Master 
John  Smyth,  gunner  to  the  King,"  who  appears  to  have 
been  a  prisoner  here  for  the  worse  part  of  four  years,  in 
the  hands  of  the  Cromwellian  partisan,  Lord  Brooke. 
We  learn  nothing  further  of  the  unfortunate  gunner,  nor 
why  he  was  meted  such  hard  measure. 

MafTER  :  lo/iN  :  Sm^th  :  Gvnek  :  to  his  : 

MAlESTj/E    .    Hlg^NES    :    WAS    I    A    PrISNER    IX    THIS 

PIace  :  AND  Ia^  here  .  /roM  lQi2  tell  th 

William  SirfiaTE  rot  This  same 
ANd  i/  My  Pen  nxd  Bin  beter  foR 

HIS    SAKE    I    WOvlfi?    have    MEXrfEfi? 
EVERRi    leTTER. 

Ma/ter  1642  345 

lohn  :  Smj/th  Gvner  to  H  . 
maie/t^s  :  HigliNKs  was 
a  pRi/ivER  IX  This  PIace 
In  :  tAe  .  ?/eare  of  ovr  l 
ord  1642  :  345 

iniserere 

ihs  niary 

ihs  mio 

Mr.  William  Sidiate  (or  possibly  it  is  "  Lidiate  ")  who 
thus,  in  the  quaintest  of  lettering  inscribed  the  sorrows 
of  his  friend  the  imprisoned  gunner,  appears  to  have 
been  fully  conscious  of  the  eccentricity  of  his  handiwork, 
but  the  inferiority  of  his  "  pen  " — which  was  probably 
a  rusty  nail — can  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  weird 
admixture  of  "large  caps,"  "upper  case,"  "lower  case  " 
and  italic  type  which  I  confidently  expect  will  make 
the  compositor  of  this  page  smile  and  sigh  by  turns. 

The  Great  Hall,  with  its  armour  and  pictures  and 
relics  of  Guy,  is  of  course  the  chief  feature  of  the  long 
s  2  259 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

round  of  sight-seeing  that  makes  Warwick  Castle  second 
to  none  as  a  show-place.  It  was  greatly  injured  in  the 
fire  of  December  1871,  when  many  priceless  relics  were 
destroyed.  Facsimile  replicas  of  some  have  been  made, 
and  of  the  ancient  armour  which  survived  it  has  been 
said  that  there  is  no  finer  in  the  Kingdom,  except  that 
in  the  Tower  of  London.  It  is  remarkable  that  although 
the  Castle  has  passed  from  family  to  family,  and  some- 
times to  families  not  related  to  their  predecessors,  the 
continuity  of  things  has  been  maintained.  Here  is  the 
mace  of  Richard  Neville,  Earl  of  Warwick,  "  the  King- 
maker," who  was  slain  in  1471  at  the  Battle  of  Barnet ; 
here  are  portions  of  the  armour  which  belonged  to  Prince 
Edward,  murdered  at  Tewkesbury,  after  the  battle ; 
together  with  relics  of  the  Dudleys,  such  as  the  miniature 
suit  of  armour  made  for  the  "  noble  Impe  ";  together 
with  a  helmet  of  the  great  Oliver  Cromwell,  and 
the  suit  worn  by  Lord  Brooke,  shot  at  the  siege  of 
Lichfield.  His  buff  leathern  jerkin  was  burnt  in  1871, 
and  that  Ave  now  see  is  a  facsimile  of  it.  Here,  too,  are 
those  preposterous  relics  of  Guy,  already  mentioned, 
together  with  a  rib  of  that  Dun  Cow  of  terrific  story 
which  he  slew  upon  Dunsmore.  The  visitor  will  see  that 
rib  with  surprise,  and  note  that  the  cows  of  a  thousand 
years  ago  were  larger  than  ever  he  suspected.  It  is  the 
rib  of  a  whale. 

He  would  be  a  courtly,  and  perhaps  also  a  tedious, 
writer  who  should  essay  to  fully  describe  Warwick  Castle? 
with  its  many  suites  of  state-rooms,  its  gothic  stone- 
vaulted  servants' -hall,  and  its  terraces,  ponds,  and 
gardens,  together  with  the  conservatories  and  that 
famous  Roman  antiquity,  the  so-called  "  Warwick  Vase," 
found  at  Hadrian's  Villa,  near  Rome  in  1770,  and 
purchased  by  the  dilettante  George,  second  Earl,  from 
Sir  William  Hamilton.     Great  improvements  have  been 

260 


CESAR'S    TOWER 

made  here  in  the  last  few  years,  at  tlie  cost  of  "a 
httle  damming  and  blasting,"  as  was  remarked  at  the 
time. 

Past  the  melancholy  flymen  who  linger  in  the  broad 
roadway  opposite  the  entrance  to  the  Castle,  and  wear 
jaundiced  looks  as  though  it  were  years  ago  since  they 
had  had  a  fare  and  expect  it  to  be  years  yet  before  they 
will  get  another,  you  turn  to  the  right  into  Mill  Lane, 
narrow  street  of  ancient  houses,  leading  down  to  the 
river  and  to  the  site  of  that  ancient  mill  where  the  feudal 
lords  had  their  corn  ground. 

The  magnificence  of  state-rooms,  the  lengthy  parade 
of  family  portraits,  the  beauty  of  the  gardens,  and  the 
trimness  of  well-kept  lawns  do  not  serve  the  really 
cultivated  visitor's  turn  in  Warwick  Castle.  He  pays 
his  two  shillings  and  is  herded  through  with  many  others, 
a  little  browbeaten  by  the  stale  declamation  of  the 
gorgeous  lackeys  and  by  a  very  indigestion  of  sight- 
seeing. It  is  not  a  mediaeval  fortress  he  has  seen,  but 
a  private  residence.  In  Mill  Lane,  however,  you  come 
into  nearer  touch  with  realities.  Here,  in  this  by  far 
the  most  picturesque  and  unspoiled  part  of  Warwick, 
where  the  bowed  and  time-worn  brick  or  timber-framed 
houses  are  living  out  their  life  naturally,  something  of 
the  ancient  contrast  between  subservient  town  and  feudal 
fortress  may  be  gathered,  softened  dowTi,  it  is  true,  by 
the  hand  of  time.  Caesar's  Tower  is  viewed  at  its  best 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  lane,  and  looks  from  this  point 
of  view  the  noblest  and  the  sternest  tower  the  forceful 
military  architects  of  the  Middle  Ages  have  given  us,  and 
well  worthy  of  the  great  name  of  Caesar  long  ago  conferred 
upon  it  by  some  unknown  admirer  of  its  dignity  and 
massive  beauty.  It  was  somewhere  about  13G0  when 
Caesar's  Tower  first  arose  upon  the  rocky  bluff  in  which 
its  foundations  go  deeply  down.     It  was  then  called  the 

261 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Poictiers  Tower.  The  purpose  of  this  extremely  strong 
and  cunningly-planned  work  just  here  is  lost  to  the 
modern  casual  observer,  but  if  a  keen  glance  is  directed 
to  the  Avon  flowing  so  closely  by,  it  will  be  observed 
that  although  IMill  Lane  is  now  a  lane  butting  up  against 
the  river  bank  and  leading  nowhere,  the  ruins  of  a  very 
substantial  stone  bridge  that  once  crossed  the  broad 
stream  at  this  point  are  seen.  This  formerly  carried 
the  higli  road  from  War^vick  to  Banbury,  and  when  still 
in  use  brought  the  possibility  of  attack  upon  the  Castle 
at  this  angle  very  near,  and  therefore  to  be  provided 
against  by  the  strongest  possible  defence.  Hence  those 
boldest  of  machicolations  overhead,  those  arrow-slits  in 
the  skilfully-planned  battlements  above  them,  and  that 
extraordinary  double  base  with  the  bold  slopes,  seen  in 
the  accompanying  illustration;  a  base  whose  purpose 
was  to  fling  off  with  a  tremendous  rebound  into  the 
midst  of  an  enemy  the  stones,  the  molten  lead  and 
pitch,  and  the  more  nasty,  but  not  so  lethal  missiles 
with  which  a  besieged  garrison  defended  themselves. 
This  base  is  quite  solid  rock,  faced  with  masonry.  In 
the  upper  part  of  it  is  seen  the  small  barred  Avindow  that 
admits  a  feeble  light  into  the  dungeon  already  described. 
To-day  the  elms  have  gro\\'n  up  to  great  heights  beside 
Caesar's  Tower  and  assuage  the  grimness  of  it,  and  the 
only  sounds  are  the  cawings  and  gobbling  noises  of  the 
rooks  in  their  branches,  or  the  unlovely  cries  of  the 
Castle  peacocks  which  strut  across  the  lane  in  all  their 
glory  of  colour. 

The  tower  rises  106  feet  above  its  rocky  basement. 
Those  old  military  architects  who  designed  and  built  it 
had  not  the  least  idea  they  were  installing  a  picturesque 
feature.  They  had  no  knowledge  at  all  of  the  pictur- 
esque ;  but  they  assured  themselves,  as  well  as  they  could, 
that  the  safety  of  the  Castle  should  be  provided  for. 

262 


C-ESAR  S    TOWER,    WARWICK    CASTLE. 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

And  they  did  it  so  well  that  history  will  be  studied  in 
vain  for  a  successful  siege. 

This  must  have  been  a  noble  and  imposing  entrance 
to  Warwick  town  in  days  of  old.  Then  the  road  from 
London  to  Banbury  crossed  the  ancient  bridge  and 
came  up  under  this  frowning  tower  and  through  the 
south  gate  of  the  town,  along  Mill  Lane. 

The  bridge,  originally  a  narrow  packhorse  bridge  of 
thirteen  arches  and  of  great  antiquity,  was  widened 
in  1375  and  the  number  of  arches  reduced  to  seven; 
and,  thus  remodelled,  carried  the  traffic  until  1790. 
This  way  came  of  necessity  every  traveller  from  London 
to  "Warwick,  and  in  this  manner  Queen  Elizabeth  entered 
the  town  and  Castle  in  1572. 

Warwick  Castle  was  in  those  times  less  secluded  from 
the  streets  than  it  now  is.  The  feudal  owners  of  it  were 
not  at  all  concerned  to  hide  themselves  away,  but  when 
the  age  of  sight-seeing  dawned  and  amateurs  of  the 
picturesque  began  to  tour  the  country,  they  began  to 
consider  how  they  could  ensure  a  complete  privacy.  It 
was  effected  by  diverting  the  public  highway.  This  was 
done  at  the  instigation  of  George,  second  of  the  Greville 
Earls  of  Warwick,  in  or  about  1790,  when  the  new  road 
and  bridge  were  made,  crossing  the  Avon  considerably 
to  the  eastward.  From  that  modern  bridge,  which  cost 
£4000,  only  in  part  contributed  by  the  Earl,  who  benefited 
most  by  the  diversion,  is  obtained  that  view  of  the 
Castle  so  extravagantly  praised  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
It  is  the  only  possible  view,  and  not  a  good  one  :  one  by 
no  means  to  be  compared  with  that  formerly  obtained 
from  the  old  bridge.  Sir  Walter  Scott  therefore  either 
did  not  know  what  he  was  talking  about,  or  was  too 
much  of  a  courtier  to  reveal  his  own  convictions. 

At  this  same  time  when  the  road  was  made  to  take 
its  new  course,  the  meadows  on^^the  other  side  of  the 

264 


THE   GREVILLES 

Avon  were  enclosed  and  throAvii  into  the  park.  To 
complete  and  fully  round  off  this  story  of  obliterating 
ancient  landmarks,  the  old  bridge  was  wrecked  in  the 
same  year  by  a  flood.  Three  only  of  its  arches  remain. 
The  Grevilles,  the  present  Earls  of  Warwick,  have  a 
motto  to  their  coat  of  arms  which  is  a  complete  change 
from  the  usual  swashbuckling  braggart  sentiments.  He 
was  surely  a  singularly  modest  man  who  first  adopted 
it.  I  wish  I  could  identify  him.  He  must  have  read 
well  the  history  of  Warwick  Castle  and  have  pondered 
on  the  successive  families  of  cuckoos  who  have  nested 
in  the  old  home  of  the  original  owners.  He  selected  a 
quotation  from  the  Metamorphoses  of  that  amorous 
dove,  P.  Ovidius  Naso — O  !  quite  a  proper  one,  I  assure 
you — Vix  ea  nostra  voco,  "  I  can  scarce  call  these  things 
our  own."  Whether  he  meant  the  heirlooms,  the  mace 
that  belonged  to  the  great  Richard  Neville  "  the  King- 
maker," the  Plantagenet  and  the  Dudley  relics,  or  if  he 
were  a  contemplative  philosopher  ruminating  on  the  Law 
of  Entail,  by  which  he  was  not  o^\^ler,  to  do  with  as  he 
would,  but  only  tenant-for-life,  who  shall  say  ? 


265 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

Guy's  Cliif — The  legend  of  Guy — Kenilwortli  and  its  watersplash — 
Kenilworth  Castle. 

Leamington  will  scarcely  interest  the  holiday-maker 
in  Shakespeare  land.  From  Warwick  to  Kenilworth  is 
the  more  natural  transition,  and  it  is  one  of  much 
interest.  A  mile  and  a  half  out  of  the  town  is  that 
famous  place  of  popular  legend,  Guy's  Cliff,  where  the 
great  mansion,  standing  beside  the  river  and  built  in 
1822,  looks  so  ancient,  and  where,  on  the  opposite 
shore  of  Avon,  stands  that  mill  whose  highly  pictur- 
esque features  are  a  standing  dish  in  railway  carriage 
picture-galleries.  The  impossible  armour  of  the  mythi- 
cal Guy  of  Warwick  we  have  already  seen  in  Warwick 
Castle,  and  the  improbable  legend  of  his  hermit  life  in 
the  riverside  cave  remains  now  to  be  told. 

Guy,  returning  from  the  Holy  Land  and  successfully 
engaging  as  the  champion  of  England  against  Colbrond, 
the  giant  Dane,  in  combat  at  Winchester,  retraced  his 
steps  towards  Warwick.  There,  unknown  by  any,  he 
three  days  appeared  among  the  poor  at  the  Castle  gate, 
as  one  of  the  thirteen  people  to  whom  his  wife  daily  gave 
alms ;  and  "  having  rendred  thanks  to  her,  he  repaired 
to  an  Heremite  that  resided  among  the  shady  woods 
hard  by."  The  legend  forgets  to  tell  us  why  he  did  this, 
and  does  not  explain  how  it  was  that  this  giant  fellow, 
who  apparently  was  eight  feet  high,  was  not  recognised 
by  his  wife  and  others.  Were  they  all  eight  feet  tall, 
or  thereabouts,  at  Warwick  in  those  times  ? 

266 


THE   MYTHICAL   GUY 

But  it  would  be  wasting  time  to  apply  the  test  of 
intelligent  criticism  to  this  mass  of  accumulated  legends, 
to  which  many  generations  have  added  something. 
Guy  is  a  mythical  hero,  built  upon  the  exploits  of  some 
early  British  champion,  whose  name  and  real  history 
are  as  past  recall  as  the  facts  about  King  Arthur.  But 
the  great  fourteenth-century  Richard  Beauchamp,  Earl 
of  Warwick,  who  founded  the  chapel  here,  seems  to 
have  believed  in  him  and  in  the  size  of  him,  for  Guy's 
mutilated  effigy  placed  here  by  that  great  earl,  whose 
faith  must  have  been  as  robust  as  his  body,  is  the  full 
eight  feet  long. 

At  any  rate,  here  is  the  cave  of  the  hermit  he  consulted 
with,  and  with  whom  he  resided,  unknown  still  to  his 
friends,  until  that  holy  and  rheumatic  man  died.  Here 
he  himself  died,  two  years  later,  a.d.  929,  aged  seventy. 
Thus  the  story  seeks  to  bolster  up  the  wild  character 
of  its  details  by  the  specious  exactness  of  its  dates. 
"  He  sent  to  his  Lady  their  Wedding  Ring  by  a  trusty 
servant,  wishing  her  to  take  care  of  his  burial ;  adding 
also  that  when  she  came,  she  should  find  him  lying  dead 
in  the  Chapel,  before  the  altar,  and  moreover,  that  within 
XV  dayes  after,  she  herself  should  depart  this  life." 

Guy's  Cave,  excavated  in  the  rock,  appears  really  to 
have  been  a  hermit's  abode  in  Saxon  times.  His  name 
seems,  from  the  early  twelfth-century  Saxon  inscription 
found  here  over  a  hundred  years  ago,  to  have  been 
"  Guhthi."  It  runs  "  Yd  Crist-tu  icniecti  this  i- 
wihtth,  Guhthi  "  ;  which  has  been  rendered,  "  Cast  out, 
thou  Christ,  from  Thy  servant  this  burden,  Guhthi." 
So  romance  is  not  altogether  unjustified,  and  although 
this  misguided  anchorite  did  not  appreciate  scenery,  we 
at  any  rate  can  thus  find  some  historical  excuse  as  well 
as  a  scenic  one  for  visiting  the  spot,  with  the  crowd. 

It   is   a   pleasant   road,   on   through    Leek   Wootton, 

267 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

where  the  church,  after  being  rebuilt  in  an  odious  style 
in  1792,  has  been  brought  more  into  keeping  with  later 
ecclesiastical  sentiment.  And  so  the  road  runs  on,  to 
Kenilworth,  through  the  approach  called  Castle  End. 
Presently,  after  threading  the  long  street,  there  in  its 
meadows  rises  the  ruined  Castle. 

There  is  no  ideal  way  into  Kenilworth  nowadays, 
because  the  place  has  become  more  or  less  of  a  town,  and 
numerous  Coventry  business  men  make  it  their  suburban 
home.  Thus  does  Romance  disappear,  in  the  daily 
goings  forth  and  the  returnings  on  their  lawful  occasions 
of  the  residents,  and  in  the  spreading  of  fresh  streets  and 
always  more  cheaply  built  houses  for  newer  colonies  of 
them.  The  first  jerry-builder  at  Kenilworth  was  Robert 
Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  whose  badly  bonded  additions 
to  the  Castle  still  ruinously  show  how  slightly  and 
hastily  he  set  about  the  work.     But  of  that  anon. 

Castle  End  is  one  of  those  scattered  portions  of  the 
town  that  surprise  the  stranger.  He  thinks,  time  and 
again,  that  he  has  seen  all  Kenilworth,  but  there  is  always 
some  more  of  it.  You  bear  to  the  left  and  descend  to  a 
broad  watersplash  that  crosses  the  road  beneath  densely 
overarching  trees.  The  people  of  Kenilworth  cling 
tightly  to  the  preservation  of  their  watersplash,  and  for 
several  reasons  :  it  is  highly  picturesque  and  keeps  them 
in  touch  with  the  last  elfin  echoes  of  that  Romance  I  have 
spoken  of;  the  building  of  a  bridge  would  cost  them 
considerably;  and  finally  they  would  lose  the  amuse- 
ment and  speculative  interest  which  has  latterly  been 
added  to  it  in  these  automobile  times,  when  a  motor-car 
may  or  may  not  succeed  in  getting  through.  For  the 
watersplash  is  rather  a  sudden  apparition  to  the  motorist 
strange  to  the  place,  and  it  is  a  very  variable  thing. 
Sometimes  it  will  be  a  shallow  trickle  across  the  road, 
and  at  others,  when  rain  has  fallen,  it  will  be  broad  and 

268 


KENILWORTH   CASTLE 

deep.  This  is  when  the  people  of  Kenilworth  love  to 
gather  on  the  narrow  footbridge  at  the  side  and  smoke 
a  quiet  cigarette,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  motorist 
who  will  presently  be  in  difficulties.  It  is  something  of 
a  problem  how  to  pass  at  such  times.  If  you  rush  it,  as 
most  are  tempted  to  do,  you  get  through  at  the  cost  of 
being  swamped  with  the  tremendous  spray  thrown  up ; 
and  if  you  go  gently  you  are  probably  brought  to  an 
inglorious  standstill  in  mid-stream,  with  the  ignominious 
necessity  of  wading  out  and  procuring  assistance.  In 
any  event,  an  engrossing  spectacle  is  provided. 

Once  through  this  ford,  you  come  up  to  the  Castle 
entrance,  on  the  left.  It  is  a  pleasant  old  part  that  looks 
on  to  the  scene  of  so  much  feudal  state  and  bygone 
warlike  doings.  A  group  of  old  red  brick  and  timber 
cottages,  their  red  brick  of  the  loveliest  geranium  redness, 
looks  upon  a  kind  of  village  green.  They  lean  at  all 
kinds  of  angles,  their  roofs  have  skylines  like  the  waves 
of  a  troubled  sea,  in  front  of  each  one  is  a  little  forecourt 
garden,  and  they  all  supply  teas  and  sell  picture- 
postcards.  I  do  not  know  what  the  inhabitants  of  them 
do  in  the  winter.  Perhaps  they  come  up  to  London  and 
spend  their  gains  in  mad  revelry. 

It  is  a  hungry  and  a  thirsty  business,  "  doing  " 
Kenilworth  Castle  conscientiously,  and  the  people  of 
Castle  Green  and  elsewhere  in  this  village-town  find  their 
account  therein.  Even  those  visitors  who  do  not 
conscientiously  "do  "  it — and  they  are  by  far  the  larger 
number,  both  because  most  have  not  the  intellectual 
equipment  necessary,  and  because  in  the  rest  the 
weakness  of  the  flesh  prevails  over  the  willingness  of  the 
spirit — find  copious  refreshment  necessary.  There  is 
in  fact,  a  great  deal  to  be  seen,  and  the  interest  is  sus- 
tained throughout.  Viewed  in  a  conmiercial  way,  it  is 
a    very    good    sixpennyworth.     Personally,    I    consider 

269 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

Ludlow  Castle  to  be  somewhat  the  superior  of  Kenil- 
worth,  and  to  hold  the  premier  position  for  a  ruined 
castle ;  but  Kenilworth  is  first  in  the  estimation  of 
many.  It  does  not  make  the  effective  picture  that  Ludlow 
forms,  crowning  its  rocky  bluff  above  the  river  Teme ; 
for  Kenilworth  stands  in  perhaps  the  weakest  situation 
that  ever  was  selected  for  an  ancient  fortress,  its  ruined 
walls  rising  from  low-lying  meadows,  and  at  a  distance 
having  the  appearance  rather  of  some  huge  dismantled 
mansion  than  a  castle. 

It  is  quite  easy  to  deduce  the  existence  of  some  Saxon 
lord,  Chenil  or  Kenelm,  whose  weorth  this  was,  but  he  is 
not  an  historical  personage.  The  first  important  historic 
fact  that  remains  to  us  is  the  gift  of  the  manor  by  Henry 
the  First  to  Geoffrey  de  Clinton  in  1122,  but  what  he 
found  here  in  the  nature  of  a  castle,  or  what  he  may  have 
built  is  alike  unknown.  From  the  grandson  of  this 
Geoffrey,  King  John  appears  to  have  taken  a  lease  and 
to  have  added  many  outworks  to  the  then  existing 
castle  keep,  which  still  remains.  That  evil  figure  in 
English  history,  travelling  almost  incessantly  about  his 
kingdom,  watchful  and  tyrannical,  seems  to  have  been 
much  at  Kenilworth,  enlarging  the  bounds  of  the  Castle 
beyond  the  original  Saxon  mound  on  which  the  keep  and 
the  inner  ward  are  placed,  inventing  strong  dungeons 
for  his  victims,  and  constructing  those  outer  walls 
which  still  look  out,  beyond  the  original  moat.  Thus 
the  Castle  grew  to  four  times  the  area  it  had  at  first 
occupied,  and  as  it  could  not  be  strengthened  by  steep 
approaches,  it  was  safeguarded  by  artificially  constructed 
water  defences.  The  fortification  of  Kenilworth  Castle 
was  indeed  a  wonderful  triumph  of  mediaeval  military 
engineering  over  the  disabilities  of  an  unsatisfactory  site, 
and  it  enabled  the  disaffected  nobles  and  others  in  the 
next  reign  to  sustain  a  six  months'  siege  ending  only  in 

270 


SIEGE   OF   KENILWORTH 

their  surrender  through  a  plague  which  had  broken  out 
among  the  garrison. 

We  can  still  see  the  nature  of  these  defences,  for 
although  the  water  has  been  drained  away,  the  circuit 
of  the  outer  walls,  from  the  Swan  Tower  on  Clinton 
Green,  round  to  Mortimer's  Tower,  the  Water  Tower,  and 
Lunn's  Tower  remains  perfect,  and  marks  where  the 
defences  on  two  sides  of  the  Castle  enclosure  skirted  a 
great  lake  formed  by  damming  back  two  small  confluent 
brooks  in  the  hollow  meadows  in  which  the  Castle 
stands.  The  outer  walls,  now  looking  upon  pastures 
where  cattle  graze,  then  descended  sheer  into  the  water ; 
a  flight  of  steps  leading  down  from  a  postern  gate  still 
remaining  to  show  where  a  boat  could  then  have  been 
launched.  This  lake  was  half  a  mile  long,  from  90  to 
100  yards  broad,  and  from  10  to  12  feet  deep. 

The  siege  of  1266  tried  the  strength  of  this  strong 
place.  The  great  Simon  de  Montfort,  who  fell  at  the 
Battle  of  Evesham  in  1265,  had  been  granted  the  Castle 
in  1254.  He  died  in  the  popular  cause,  fighting  against 
Henry  the  Third,  and  his  defeated  army  hurried  to 
Kenil worth.  They  found  no  immediate  opposition, 
and  garrisoned  the  place  at  leisure,  being  joined  there 
by  many  powerful  adherents  and  heaping  up  enormous 
stores  for  a  lengthy  resistance.  Both  sides  knew  it 
would  be  a  stubborn  and  difficult  affair.  The  King 
tried  at  first  to  come  to  terms  with  the  garrison,  but  he 
does  not  appear  to  have  gone  about  it  in  the  most 
tactful  way.  It  is  true  that  he  was  prepared  to  allow 
the  rebels  to  compound  for  pardon  with  a  fine,  supposing 
they  did  so  within  forty  days,  but  to  "  pardon  "  those 
who  think  they  are  in  the  right  and  who  are  still  in 
arms  to  assert  their  rights  and  redress  their  grievances, 
seems  an  unlikely  way  to  end  a  dispute.  The  Church 
was  opposed  to  the  popular  side,  as  may  always  con- 

271 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

fidently  be  expected,  and  helped  the  King's  cause  by 
damning  the  insurgents  and  preparing  the  tremendous 
document  known  to  history  as  the  "  Dictum  de  Kenil- 
worth,"  otherwise  "  the  Ban."  This  was  read  and 
pubhshed  in  the  church  of  St.  Mary,  Warwick.  It 
proclaimed  the  supreme  will  of  the  King,  and,  inter  alia, 
forbade  the  people  to  regard  the  dead  hero  and  popular 
idol,  de  Montfort,  as  the  saint  and  martyr  they  were 
already  declaring  him  to  be.  The  garrison  received 
this  with  contempt,  and  the  long  siege  began.  Robert 
of  Gloucester,  who  records  it  in  eloquent  but  rugged 
lines,  is  too  quaint  and  amusing  not  to  be  quoted — 

"  The  king  anon  at  midsummer,  with  strength  and  with  gin 
To  Kenilworth  y-went,  tlie  castle  to  win  ; 
He  swore  he  would  not  thence  until  he  were  within. 
So  long  they  sped  badly  that  they  might  as  well  bliue  ^ 
None  of  their  gates  those  within  ever  close  would. 
Open  they  stood,  night  and  day,  come  in  whoso  would. 
Out  they  smite  well  oft,  wlien  men  too  nigh  came. 
And  slew  fast  on  either  half  and  prisoners  name  ;  ^ 
And  then  bought  they  them  back  with  ransom.     Such  life  long  did 

last : 
With  mangonels  and  engines  each  upon  the  other  cast. 
The  Legate  and  the  Arclibishop  with  them  also  nome  ;  * 
Two  other  bishops,  and  to  Kenilworth  come. 
To  make  accord  between  the  King  and  the  disinherited  also, 
And  them  of  the  Castle,  if  it  might  he  y-do  * 
But  the  disinherited  would  not  do  all  after  the  King  ^ 
Nor  they  of  the  Castle  any  the  more,  nor  stand  to  their  liking,® 
The  Legate  with  his  red  cope  amansed  '  tho  ^ 
Them  that  in  the  castle  were,  and  full  many  mo  * 
All  that  helped  them,  or  were  of  their  rede,!" 
Or  to  them  consented,  in  will  or  in  deed. 

1  Draw  closer. 

2  Took  prisoners. 
^  They  took. 

*  If  it  might  be  done. 

^  They  would  not  agree  to  the  King's  terms. 

^  They  would  not  abide  by  their  wishes. 

'  8  Then  excommunicated  them. 

9  More. 

^0  Counsel. 

272 


ROBERT  DUDLEY 

Tliey  of  the  Castle  held  it  in  great  despite. 
Copes  and  otlier  cloathes  tliey  let  make  them  of  white 
And  Master  Philip  Porpoise,  that  was  a  quaint  man. 
Clerk,  and  hardy  in  his  deeds,  and  their  chirurgian. 
They  made  a  mock  Legate,  in  this  cope  of  wliite, 
Against  the  others'  rede,  to  do  tlie  Legate  a  despite. 
And  lie  stood  as  Legate  upon  tlie  Castle  wall. 
And  amansed  King  and  Legate  and  their  men  all 
Such  game  lasted  long  among  them  in  such  strife. 
But  much  good  was  it  not,  to  soul  or  to  life." 

There  was  never  another  siege  of  Kenil worth.  It 
passed  through  many  hands,  and  among  others  to  John 
o'  Gaunt,  whose  manors  are  found  numerously,  all  over 
the  country.  In  his  time  the  great  Banqueting  Hall, 
the  most  beautiful  feature  of  the  Castle,  was  added, 
and  it  became  not  only  a  fortress,  but  a  stately  palace 
as  well.  But  the  most  stately  and  gorgeous  times  were 
yet  to  be.  Robert  Dudley,  Queen  Elizabeth's  favourite, 
who  aspired  to  become  King-Consort,  received  a  grant 
of  it  in  1563,  and  was  created  Earl  of  Leicester  the 
following  year.  The  monopolies  and  rich  offices  of 
State  showered  upon  him  by  the  Queen  had  already 
made  him  an  enormously  wealthy  man,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  entertain  his  Sovereign  here  Avith  unparalleled 
splendour.  To  this  end  he  established  an  army  of 
workmen  here,  who  treated  the  place  very  much  in  the 
way  adopted  by  any  suddenly  enriched  millionaire  of 
modern  times  towards  the  out-of-date  mansion  he  has 
purchased.  The  narrow  openings  in  the  massive  walls 
of  the  Norman  keep  were  enlarged  and  great  mullioned 
windows  inserted ;  the  vast  Gatehouse  still  standing 
and  now  used  as  a  private  residence  was  built ;  and  the 
lofty  block  of  buildings  added  that  still  bears  his  name. 
Many  other  works,  but  of  less  spectacular  nature,  were 
undertaken  at  this  time. 

Dudley  had  known  many  changes  of  fortune,  and  had 
been  a  prisoner  in  the    Tower   only   ten   years   earlier, 
T  273 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

with  his  father  and  four  brothers,  on  a  charge  of  high 
treason;  narrowly  escaping  execution.  Now  an  aston- 
ishing freak  of  chance  had  made  him  perhaps  the  most 
powerful,  as  well  as  the  wealthiest,  man  in  the  country. 
Sir  Walter  Scott's  novel,  Kenilworth,  details  Leicester's 
magnificence  and  the  unparalleled  grandeur  of  the  enter- 
tainments given  here  to  Queen  Elizabeth  in  1575,  and 
introduces  his  wife  Amy  Robsart,  Lady  Robert  Dudley, 
as  Countess  of  Leicester  into  the  scenes  of  his  story. 
But  in  1560,  four  years  before  he  had  received  his  earl- 
dom, his  wife  had  perished  mysteriously  at  Cumnor  Place 
in  Berkshire,  murdered,  it  has  been  supposed,  at  his 
instigation,  to  clear  the  way  for  that  projected  marriage 
with  Queen  Elizabeth  which  never  took  place.  Leicester, 
when  he  entertained  the  Queen  here  so  royally,  had  no 
"  encumbrances,"  to  limit  his  ambitions. 

How  the  Queen  was  received  here  and  entertained 
for  seventeen  days  is  fully,  and  on  the  whole  tediously, 
narrated  by  a  remembrancer  then  present,  but  a  short 
extract  will  tell  us  something  of  the  quality  of  these 
revels.  On  her  Majesty's  approach  she  was  met  by 
a  girl  in  character  as  "  one  of  the  ten  sibills,  cumly  clad 
in  a  pall  of  white  sylk,"  who  recited  a  "  proper  poezie 
in  English  rime  and  meeter,  the  which  her  Majestic 
benignly  accepted  and  passed  foorth  unto  the  next 
gate  of  the  Brayz,  which  for  the  length,  largenes,  and 
use,  they  call  now  the  Tylt-Yard ;  whear  a  porter,  tall 
of  person,  and  wi*apt  also  in  sylke,  with  a  club  and  keiz 
of  quantitee  according,  had  a  rough  speech  full  of 
passions,  in  meeter  aptly  made  to  the  purpose."  Pre- 
sently when  the  Queen  came  to  the  inner  gate  "  a  person 
representing  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  famous  in  King 
Arthurz  Book,  with  two  Nymphes  waiting  uppon  her, 
arrayed  all  in  sylks,  attended  her  highness  comming," 
the  Lady  of  the  Lake  then    coming   ashore   from   the 

274 


FESTIVITIES  AT   KENILWORTH 

moat,  and  reciting  a  "  well-penned  meeter."  After 
this,  coming  to  the  Castle  gate,  a  Latin  poem  was  read  to 
her  by  a  poet  clad  in  a  "  long  ceruleous  Garment,  with 
a  Bay  Garland  on  his  head,  and  a  skrol  in  his  hand.  So, 
passing  into  the  inner  court,  her  Majesty,  (tliat  never 
rides  but  alone)  thear  set  doun  from  her  palfrey,  was 
conveied  up  to  her  chamber,  when  after  did  folio  a  great 
peal  of  Gunz  and  lightning  by  Fyr  work." 

£1000  a  day  was  spent  in  the  feasting  and  revelling. 
Everything  was  done  without  stint.  The  great  clock  on 
the  keep  was  stopped.  "  The  Clok  Bell  sang  not  a  Note 
all  the  while  her  Highness  waz  thear  :  the  Clok  also 
stood  still  withall,  the  handz  of  both  the  tablz  stood 
firm  and  fast,  allweys  pointing  at  two  a  Clok."  The 
hospitable  and  symbolical  meaning  of  this  was  that 
two  o'clock  was  the  banqueting  hour. 

Every  time  when  the  Queen  went  hunting  in  the  park, 
classic  deities,  and  heroes  and  heroines  of  mythology 
would  appear  from  woodland  glades  and  recite  com- 
plimentary poems — greatly  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
sport,  it  may  be  supposed.  Bear-baiting  further 
enlivened  the  time,  and  "  nyne  persons  were  cured  of  the 
peynful  and daungerous  deseaz  called  the  King's  Evill." 

Kenil worth  passed  on  the  death  of  Leicester  in  1588, 
to  his  brother,  Ambrose  Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick,  and 
on  his  decease,  two  years  later,  to  Robert's  illegitimate 
son.  Sir  Robert  Dudley,  who  was  long  an  exile,  and  died 
in  1649.  It  was  let  to  Prince  Henry,  son  of  James  the 
First,  and  on  his  death  to  his  brother.  Prince  Charles, 
who  purchased  it  from  Sir  Robert's  deserted  wife,  whom 
he,  when  Charles  the  First,  created  Duchess  Dudley, 
1645.  After  the  King's  execution  the  property  was 
granted  by  Cromwell  to  some  of  his  supporters,  to  whom 
is  due  its  ruinous  condition,  for  they  made  the  best 
market  they  could  of  its  building-stone.  On  the 
T2  275 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

Restoration  in  1660,  Charles  the  Second  granted  it  to 
the  Earl  of  Clarendon,  in  whose  descendants'  hands  it 
still  remains. 

The  visitor  to  the  Castle  almost  always  makes  at  once 
for  the  keep  and  the  imposing  ruins  of  John  o'  Gaunt's 
great  Banqueting  Hall,  rising  boldly  from  the  mound, 
partly  natural  and  partly  artificial,  in  the  centre  of  the 
Castle  precincts.  He  thus  follows  the  natural  instincts 
of  sightseers,  but  the  better  way,  for  the  full  understand- 
ing of  the  scale  and  ancient  strength  of  the  works,  is 
unquestionably  to  first  make  the  inner  circuit  of  the 
walls.  Standing  on  Clinton  Green  before  entering  the 
Castle,  and  facing  it  from  the  only  side  not  in  ancient 
times  defended  by  lakes  or  marshy  ground,  we  are 
on  the  bank  whence  Henry  the  Third's  soldiers  chiefly 
conducted  the  siege  of  1266.  It  was  the  weakest  part 
of  the  works,  because  the  high  natural  plateau  entirely 
precluded  the  possibility  of  continuing  the  water  defences 
on  this  side.  All  that  could  be  done  here  by  the  military 
engineers  of  Kenilworth  was  to  excavate  the  deep  chasm 
which  still  remains ;  and  across  this  the  besiegers  vainly 
tried  to  pass,  with  the  aid  of  bundles  of  faggots  thrown 
into  the  hollow,  while  "  Master  Philip  Porpoise,"  who, 
as  the  chronicler  truly  says,  "  was  a  quaint  man,"  stood 
on  the  walls,  dressed  up  like  the  Pope's  Legate,  and 
cursed  the  King  and  the  real  Legate  and  all  the  King's 
men. 

Leicester's  great  Gatehouse  no  longer  forms  the  entrance 
to  the  Castle,  and  is  in  private  occupation.  It  did  not 
even  figure  in  the  great  reception  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
in  1575,  for  she  came  the  other  way,  through  the  Tilt 
Yard  and  by  Mortimer's  Tower,  and  across  the  great 
Outer  Ward  :  a  method  of  approach  especially  calcu- 
lated to  enhance  the  stateliness  of  the  pageant.  All 
Warwickshire,    I    think,    must    have    witnessed    those 

276 


THE  RUINS 

doings,  from  the  further  bank  of  the  widespreading  lake, 
among  them  Mr.  John  Shakespeare  and  his  eleven-year- 
old  son,  William,  whose  imagination  would  have  been 
excited  by  the  fantastic  creatures  that  sported  on  the 
water,  and  by  the  fireworks  and  the  heathen  gods  and 
goddesses  :  very  real  to  him,  because  he  was  not  old 
enough  to  know  how  it  was  all  done. 

You  render  your  entrance-fee  at  a  narrow  gate  and 
are  at  once  free  to  wander  at  will.  In  front  is  the  grassy 
Outer  Ward,  and  on  the  right,  the  keep  and  the  state 
buildings,  with  Leicester's  Building,  lofty,  seamed  with 
fissures  and  shored  up  against  its  falling.  The  eyeless 
windows  preach  a  homily  on  the  transient  nature  of 
things. 

But,  leaving  these  for  a  while,  we  skirt  along  to  the 
left,  coming  to  the  ruins  of  Mortimer's  Tower,  whicli 
stood  on  the  wall  and  formed  the  entrance  to  the  Castle 
in  this  direction.  It  looked  out  upon  the  Tilt  Yard  and 
the  massive  dam  that  penned  up  the  waters  of  the  Great 
Lake.  Just  before  this  tower  is  reached  the  Water 
Tower  on  the  wall  will  be  seen,  and  may  be  examined. 
Near  at  hand  are  the  Stables  and  Lunn's  Tower,  divided 
off  by  a  light  iron  fence  and  not  accessible ;  being  in- 
cluded within  the  grounds  belonging  to  the  occupier 
of  the  Gatehouse.  But  the  Stables  are  seen,  clearly 
enough,  and  form  the  most  charming  colour-scheme 
within  the  Castle.  They  are  of  fifteenth-century  red 
brick,  timber-framed,  and  of  an  almost  unimaginably 
delicate  and  yet  vivid  red. 

Next  after  Mortimer's  Tower  comes  a  small  postern 
gateway,  with  its  steps  formerly  leading  to  the  water. 
Continuing  from  it  and  following  the  wall,  we  come  under 
the  tottering  walls  of  Leicester's  building,  on  the  right, 
with  the  massive  walls  of  the  state  Buildings  beyond  it. 
They  stand  high,  upon  a  mound  that  formed  the  limits 

277 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

of  the  Castle  of  Saxon  and  early  Norman  days,  and  the 
grassy  walk  between  them  and  the  outer  wall  was  in 
those  distant  times  the  moat,  long  before  the  magni- 
ficent scheme  of  the  lake  was  thought  out.  Remains 
of  fireplaces  and  Avindows  in  this  outer  wall  show  where 
the    wooden    buildings   that   formed    barracks   for   the 


KKNILWORTH    CASTLE  :     RUINS    OF    THE    BANQUETING    HALL. 

garrison  stood.  The  walk  ends  up  against  an  archway 
leading  into  the  garden,  or  Plaisance,  assigned  to  Henry 
the  Eighth,  through  which  the  outer  wall  continues 
past  a  water-gate  called  the  "  King's  Gate,"  and  so  to 
the  Swan  Tower,  where  the  circuit  is  completed,  at 
Clinton  Green. 

But  the  Plaisance  is  not  open  to  the  public.  The 
way  into  the  central  block  of  State  buildings  is  through 
a  postern  doorway  on  the  right,  under  the  Banqueting 

278 


THE   GREAT  HALL 

Hall.  The  savage  treatment  of  these  noble  buildings 
by  Cromwell's  friends  has  at  first  sight  obscured  the 
nature  of  this  scene ;  but  it  is  soon  perceived  that  the 
Hall  stood  high,  upon  a  basement  or  undercroft,  whose 
vaulted  roof  has  entirely  disappeared,  together  with  that 
of  the  Hall  itself.  This  postern  doorway  therefore  led 
through  the  basement.  The  Hall  was  the  work  of 
John  o'  Gaunt,  about  1350,  and  was  a  grand  building 
in  the  Perpendicular  style,  ninety  feet  long  and  forty-five 
feet  wide.  Lofty  and  deeply-recessed  windows,  with  rich 
tracery  lighted  it,  and  at  one  end  was  an  exceptionally 
beautiful  oriel  window.  A  portion  of  this  survives, 
together  with  two  of  the  others.  The  entrance  from  the 
Inner  Court  was  by  a  fine  flight  of  stone  stairs  and 
through  a  wide  archway  still  remaining  in  greatly  weather- 
worn condition,  but  showing  traces  of  delicately  carved 
work.  Inside  is  the  groined  porch,  with  a  recess  for  a 
porter. 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  who  here  adopts  the  close  account 
given  by  Laneham,  one  of  the  Queen's  retinue  during 
her  reception  at  Kenilworth,  and  merely  edits  him» 
describes  the  appearance  of  the  Hall,  "  hung  with  the 
richest  tapestry,  misty  with  perfumes,  and  sounding 
to  strains  of  soft  and  delicious  music.  From  the  highly 
carved  oaken  roof  hung  a  superb  chandelier  of  gilt  bronze, 
formed  like  a  spread  eagle,  whose  outstretched  wings 
supported  three  male  and  three  female  figures,  grasping 
a  pair  of  branches  in  each  hand.  The  Hall  was  thus 
illuminated  by  twenty-four  torches  of  wax.  At  the 
upper  end  of  this  splendid  apartment  was  a  State 
canopy,  overshadowing  a  royal  throne,  and  beside  it 
was  a  door  which  opened  to  a  long  suite  of  apart- 
ments, decorated  with  the  utmost  magnificence  for  the 
Queen  and  her  ladies,  when  it  should  be  her  pleasure  to 
be  private." 

279 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

This  magnificence  curiously  contrasts  with  the 
primitive  nature  of  the  sanitary  arrangements  seen 
in  the  adjoining  towers  and  in  the  keep.  The  Strong 
Tower  and  the  Kitchen  Tower  fill  up  the  space  between 
the  Banqueting  Hall  and  the  keep ;  the  first  named, 
appropriately  enough,  from  having  been  a  prison.  The 
walls  of  its  not  unpleasant,  though  small  rooms,  still 
bear  some  rudely-scratched  coats  of  arms  of  those  who 
were  detained  here.  Their  imprisonment  cannot  have 
been  so  hopeless  as  that  of  King  John's  victims,  in  the 
dungeons  of  the  keep. 

The  keep  is  called  "  Caesar's  Tower,"  but  the  Romans 
had  never  any  association  with  Kenilworth.  It  would 
better  be  styled  "  Clinton's."  Like  all  the  buildings, 
it  is  of  a  dull,  brownish  red  stone.  .  An  angle-turret 
shows  where  the  clock  was  placed  :  that  clock  whose 
hands  always  stood  hospitably  at  the  banqueting  hour 
in  those  seventeen  days  of  Elizabethan  revel. 

Leaving  Kenilworth  for  Coventry,  the  church  is  on 
the  right.  Its  west  doorway  is  a  fine  but  much-decayed 
work  of  the  Norman  period,  from  the  ruins  of  the 
Augustinian  Priory  close  by.  It  is  a  much-restored 
church,  and  does  not  come  up  to  the  expectations  raised 
by  a  sight  of  its  octagonal  tower  and  spire.  The  only 
object  of  interest  within  is  a  pig  of  lead  built  into  the 
tower  wall,  bearing  the  mark  of  one  of  Henry  the  Eighth's 
travelling  Commissioners  inquiring  into  the  suppression 
of  the  religious  houses.  It  would  seem  to  be  one  of  a 
number  cast  from  the  lead  off  the  Priory  roofs. 

Kenilworth  at  last  left  behind,  a  gradual  rise  brings 
the  traveller  to  the  turning  to  Stoneleigh  village.  It  is 
"  Gibbet  Hill,"  The  ill-omened  name  comes  from  an 
example  of  the  law's  ancient  practice  of  hanging  up 
murderers  to  the  public  view,  very  much  in  the  manner 
of  those  gamekeepers  who  nail  up  the  bodies  of  the 

280 


THE   GIBBET 

jays,  the  rats,  the  weasels  and  other  "  vermin."  The 
criminals  whose  carcases  swung  and  rattled  here  in  their 
chains  were  three  in  number ;  Moses  Baker,  a  weaver  of 
Coventry,  and  Edward  Drury  and  Robert  Leslie,  two 
dragoons  of  Lord  Pembroke's  regiment,  quartered  in 
that  city.  They  had  on  March  18th,  1765,  murdered 
a  farmer,  one  Thomas  Edwards,  at  a  place  called 
Whoberley,  just  outside  Coventry.  Their  bodies  hung 
until  their  clothes  rotted ;  and  then,  one  by  one,  their 
bones  fell  from  their  chains  and  enclosing  cages.  But 
the  gibbet  and  the  terror  of  it  remained  until  1820, 
when  the  weathered  timber,  scored  with  thousands  of 
the  rusty  nails  which  had  been  driven  into  it,  so  that  no 
one  should  climb  the  post,  was  removed  to  do  service  in 
the  cow  byre  of  a  neighbouring  farm. 

This  melancholy  history  apart,  the  road  is  a  pleasant 
one ;  broad,  and  lined  with  wide  grassy  edges  and 
magnificent  elms.  It  was  even  more  pleasant  before 
the  motor  manufacturing  firms  of  Coventry  began  the 
practice  of  testing  their  new  cars  along  it,  and  was 
then  the  pride  of  the  district.  It  leads  across  Stivichall 
Common  into  the  city  of  Coventry,  over  that  railway 
bridge  referred  to  by  Tennyson  in  his  poem,  Godiva — 

"  I  waited  for  the  train  at  Coventry  ; 
I  hung  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  hridge. 
To  watch  the  three  tall  spires." 

I  remember  a  first  reading  of  that  poem,  and  the 
difficulty  of  really  believing  Tennyson  meant  a  railway 
train.  It  seemed  incredible  that  he  could  in  such  a 
nineteenth-century  fashion  introduce  an  eleventh- 
century  subject.  The  "  train  "  one  imagined  at  first  to 
be  a  train  in  the  middle-ages  sense,  a  procession  or 
pageant,  and  the  person  who  waited  for  it  to  be,  not 
Tennyson  himself,  but  some  imaginary  person  indulging 

281 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN  SHAKESPEARE  LAND 

in  historical  speculation.     But  no,  he  was  modern,  like 
his  own  King  Arthur. 

Here  the  "  three  tall  spires  "  first  come  into  view,  and 
the  city  of  Coventry  is  entered,  past  the  Green  and  up 
Hertford  Street. 


282 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Coventry. 

Coventry  originated,  according  to  tradition,  in  a  con- 
vent established  here  as  early  as  the  sixth  century. 
Canute  is  said  to  have  been  the  founder  of  another. 
Whatever  may  be  the  truth  of  the  matter,  it  is  certain 
that  the  great  Saxon  Earl  Leofric  and  his  wife  Godifu 
in  1043  founded  that  Benedictine  Monastery  whose 
Priory  church  afterwards  became  the  Cathedral,  whose 
scanty  ruins  alone  remain.  These  real  and  legendary 
religious  houses,  together  with  the  Monastery  of  the 
Carmelites,  or  White  Friars,  and  numerous  others 
originated  a  curious  notion  that  the  name  "  Coventry  " 
was  really  a  corruption  of  "  Conventry,"  the  place  of 
convents.  It  was  an  excusable  mistake,  when  we 
consider  that  the  somewhat  similar  name  of  "  Covent 
Garden  "  in  London  does  in  point  of  fact  derive  from 
the  old  garden  of  the  Abbots  of  Westminster,  but  it 
was  a  complete  mistake,  all  the  same.  The  place-name 
comes  from  a  little  stream  called  by  the  British  the 
Couen,  not  easily  to  be  found  in  the  city  itself,  but 
rising  to  the  north  and  passing  through  the  village  of 
Coundon.  (There  is  a  stream  of  similar  name,  the 
"Cound,"  at  Church  Stretton,  in  Shropshire.)  It  was 
thus  the  "place  on  the  Couen."  The  Saxons,  who 
called  that  stream  by  a  name  of  their  own,  the 
"  Scir-burn,"that  is  to  say,  the  "  clear  stream  " — which 
in  course  of   time  became   the  "  Sherborne  " — did  not 

283 


SUMMER  DAYS  IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

succeed  in  changing  the  name  of  the  place,  as  they  did 
at  Sherborne  in  Dorset;  and  "  Coventry  "  it  remained. 

The  most  famous  incident  in  the  ancient  "  history  '' 
of  Coventry  is  entirely  legendary;  but  although  proved 
to  be  inherently  improbable,  if  not  impossible,  the  story 
of  Godiva  and  her  ride  through  the  streets  clad  only  in 
her  own  modesty,  is  one  that  will  never  be  destroyed 
by  criticism.     It  is  too  ancient  a  myth  for  that. 

About  the  year  1130  the  monkish  writer,  Roger  of 
Wendover,  started  it.  Whence  he  derived  the  story 
no  one  knows,  but  he  probably  heard  it  as  a  folk-legend 
unconnected  with  place  or  person,  and  took  it  upon 
himself  to  fix  the  tale  on  Leofric  and  his  Countess 
Godifu.  He  had  courage  in  doing  so,  for  it  was  only 
about  a  hundred  years  after  the  time  of  Leofric  and  his 
wife  that  he  wrote. 

"  The  Countess  Godiva,"  he  says,  "  who  was  a  great 
lover  of  God's  mother,  longing  to  free  the  town  of 
Coventry  from  the  oppression  of  a  heavy  toll,  often 
with  urgent  prayers  besought  her  husband,  that  from 
regard  to  Jesus  Christ  and  His  mother,  he  would  free 
the  town  from  that  service,  and  from  all  other  heavy 
burdens ;  and  when  the  Earl  sharply  rebuked  her  for 
foolishly  asking  what  was  so  nuich  to  his  damage,  and 
always  forbade  her  for  evermore  to  speak  to  him  on  the 
subject ;  and  while  she,  on  the  other  hand,  with  a  woman's 
pertinacity,  never  ceased  to  exasperate  her  husband 
on  that  matter,  he  at  last  made  her  this  answer  :  '  Mount 
your  horse,  and  ride  naked  before  all  the  people,  through 
the  market  of  the  town  from  one  end  to  the  other,  and 
on  your  return  you  shall  have  your  request,'  on  which 
Godiva  replied,  '  But  will  you  give  me  permission,  if 
I  am  willing  to  do  it  ?  '  'I  will,'  said  he.  Whereupon, 
the  Countess,  beloved  of  God,  loosed  her  hair,  and  let 
down  her  tresses,  which  covered  the  whole  of  her  body, 

284 


PEEPING  TOM 

like  a  veil,  and  then  mounting  her  horse  and  attended 
by  two  knights,  she  rode  through  the  market-place 
without  being  seen,  except  her  fair  legs ;  and  having 
completed  the  journey,  she  returned  with  gladness  to 
her  astonished  husband  and  obtained  of  him  what  she 
had  asked,  for  Earl  Leofric  freed  the  to\\Ti  of  Coventry 
and  its  inhabitants  from  the  aforesaid  service,  and 
confirmed  what  he  had  done  by  a  charter." 

The  incident  of  Peeping  Tom  was  never  thought  of 
by  Roger  of  Wendover,  and  does  not  become  a  part  of 
the  story  until  the  seventeenth  century.  Who  was  the 
genius  who  invented  him  is  not  known;  but  from  that 
time  onwards  the  peeping  tailor  who  alone  of  all  the 
people  of  Coventry  spied  upon  Godiva  as  she  rode  through 
the  empty  streets  becomes  an  essential  part  of  the 
legend.  His  fate  takes  so  mediaeval  a  turn  that  he 
seems  really  older  than  he  is.  Tennyson  adopts  him, 
in  his  poem,  as  a 

"  low  cliurl,  compact  of  thankless  earth, 
The  fatal  byword  of  all  years  to  come. 
Boring  a  little  auger-hole  in  fear, 
Peep'd — but  his  eyes,  before  they  liad  their  will. 
Were  shrivell'd  into  darkness  in  his  head. 
And  dropt  before  him.     So  the  powers  who  wait 
On  noble  deeds,  cancell'd  a  sense  misus'd." 

A  half-length  effigy  purporting  to  be  Peeping  Tom 
occupies  a  niche  in  the  wall  of  the  "  King's  Head  "  in 
Smithford  Street.  He  is  really  a  portion  of  a  figure  of 
St.  George  from  one  of  the  old  Coventry  civic  pageants ; 
but  he  looks  so  peculiarly  unsaintly  and  has  so  lecherous 
a  grin  that  no  one  can  for  a  moment  dispute  his  entire 
suitability  for  the  present  part. 

Coventry  became  so  important  a  place  in  the  early 
part  of  the  fourteenth  century  that  it  was  granted  a 
charter  of  incorporation,  and  afterwards  fortified  with 
walls  and  gates.     Parliaments  were  held  there,  in  the 

285 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

stately  buildings  of  the  Priory;  Coventry  Cross  became 
one  of  the  most  famous  City  Crosses  in  the  kingdom; 
and  the  trade  guilds  were  among  the  richest  and  most 
powerful.  The  mayors,  too,  were  important  and  fear- 
less magistrates,  as  we  may  judge  from  the  example  of 
John  Horneby,  who  in  1411  caused  the  riotous  Prince 
Hal,  afterwards  Henry  the  Fifth,  to  be  arrested  for 
creating  a  disturbance,  and  thus  ranks  with  Judge 
Gascoyne,  who  on  another  occasion  committed  the 
Prince  to  prison. 

Shakespeare  rightly  made  Falstaff  more  ashamed  to 
march  through  this  rich  and  populous  town  with  his 
ragged  company  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  soldiers,  and 
only  a  shirt  and  a  half  among  the  lot,  than  Godiva  had 
been  to  ride  through  the  primitive  place  of  three  hundred 
years  before,  with  nothing — 

"If  I  be  not  ashamed  of  my  soldiers,  I  am  a  soused 
gurnet  .  .  .  you  would  think  that  I  had  a  hundred 
and  fifty  tattered  prodigals,  lately  come  from  swine- 
keeping,  from  eating  draff  and  husks.  A  mad  fellow 
met  me  on  the  way  and  told  me  I  had  unloaded  all  the 
gibbets  and  pressed  the  dead  bodies.  No  eye  hath  seen 
such  scarecrows.  I'll  not  march  through  Coventry  with 
them  that's  flat ;  nay,  and  the  villains  march  wide  betwixt 
the  legs,  as  if  they  had  gyves  on;  for  indeed  I  had  the 
most  of  them  out  of  prison.  There's  but  a  shirt  and 
a  half  in  all  my  company;  and  the  half  shirt  is  two 
napkins  tied  together,  and  thrown  over  the  shoulders, 
like  a  herald's  coat  without  sleeves ;  and  the  shirt,  to 
say  the  truth,  stolen  from  my  host  at  Saint  Albans,  or 
the  red-nosed  innkeeper  of  Daintry." 

Coventry,  in  right  of  this  importance,  became  a  city  in 
1451,  and  went  on  from  good  to  better,  until  the  sup- 
pression of  the  religious  houses.  At  that  time  its 
population  numbered   15,000,   but  within  a  few  years 

286 


A  COURTLY  MAYOR 

it  had  declined  to  3000.  Yet  in  another  thirty  years 
the  city  is  found  receiving  Queen  Elizabeth  not  only 
with  enthusiasm  and  splendid  pageants,  but  with  the 
present  of  a  purse  of  £100;  although  the  depression 
was  still  acute. 

"It  is  a  good  gift,  an  hundred  pounds  in  gold;  I 
have  but  few  such  gifts,"  said  her  Majesty,  who  was 
great  but  greedy. 

"  If  it  please  your  Grace, "answered  that  courtly  Mayor, 
"  there  is  a  great  deal  more  in  it." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  hearts,"  he  rejoined,  "  of  all  your  loving  sub- 
jects." 

"  We  thank  you,  Mr.  Mayor,"  said  the  Queen,  "  it 
is  a  great  deal  more,  indeed." 

But  she  did  not  confer  the  honour  of  knightliood 
upon  him. 

James  the  First,  visiting  Coventry  in  1617,  was  given 
£100  and  a  silver  cup ;  probably  in  the  hope  of  getting 
a  renewal  of  the  charter;  but  in  the  next  reign  we  find 
a  very  different  spirit.  "  Ye  damnable  puritans  of 
Coventry,"  says  a  letter -writer  of  the  time,  "  have 
thrown  up  earthworkes  and  rampires  against  his 
Maiestie's  forces,  and  have  put  themselves  in  a  posture 
of  defence."  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  expression 
arose  of  "  sending  to  Coventry  "  any  objectionable 
person.  Those  thus  consigned  to  Coventry  were 
prisoners  of  war.  Royalists  captured  by  the  people  of 
Birmingham,  for  whom  no  prison  could  be  found  except 
in  this  walled  and  fortified  city. 

Those  walls  were  promptly  destroyed  at  the  Restora- 
tion, by  order  of  Charles  the  Second,  the  citizens  of 
Coventry  offering  no  objection.  They  had  grown  weary 
of  the  Commonwealth,  and  when  the  King  came  to  his 
own  again  the  city  was  given  over  to  festivity.     The 

287 


SUMMER  DAYS   IN   SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

fountains  spouted  claret  (not  good  claret,  nor  very 
much  of  it,  we  may  suppose) ;  bonfires  blazed ;  and  a 
deputation  waited  upon  the  King  in  London  and  gave 
him  £50  and  a  basin  and  ewer  of  gold. 

Coventry  Cross,  already  mentioned,  was  built  between 
the  years  1541-44,  at  the  time  of  the  city's  decay,  after 
the  suppression  of  the  monasteries,  and  was  the  gift  of 
Sir  William  Holies,  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  who  be- 
queathed £200  for  the  purpose.  It  was  described  by 
Dugdale  as  "  one  of  the  chief  things  wherein  this  city 
most  glories,  which  for  workmanship  and  beauty  is 
inferior  to  none  in  England."  But  soon  after  Dugdale 
wi'ote  this  the  Cross  wherein  Coventry  so  gloried  was 
destroyed,  and  the  chief  outstanding  architectural 
feature  is  now  formed  by  the  spires  of  St.  Michael's, 
Holy  Trinity,  and  Christ  Church  :  Coventry  indeed  being 
known  far  and  wide  as  the  "  City  of  the  Three  Spires." 
It  is  rather  unfortunate  that  the  fine  grouping  of  these 
three  spires,  seen  best  from  the  approach  to  the  city  by 
the  Kenilworth  road,  is  spoiled  by  the  most  distressingly 
commonplace  houses  in  the  foreground;  and  that  from 
no  other  point  of  view  do  they  group  at  all. 

St.  Michael's  spire,  incomparably  the  finer,  rises  with 
the  tower  to  a  height  of  303  feet ;  that  of  Holy  Trinity 
to  237  feet ;  and  Christ  Church  to  201  feet.  St.  Michael's 
church  has  the  reputation  of  being  the  largest  parish 
church  in  England,  a  distinction  claimed  also  by  St. 
Nicholas,  Great  Yarmouth,  and  St.  Mary  Redcliffe, 
Bristol.  The  honour  appears  to  belong  to  St.  Michael's, 
which  in  other  ways  is  a  notable  building.  It  is  generally 
said  to  have  a  nave  and  four  aisles,  the  two  additional 
"  aisles  "  being  really  chapels  of  similar  length  and 
appearance  :  the  work  of  the  Smiths'  and  Girdlers' 
Companies  and  the  Fellowship  of  Woollen  Cardmakers ; 
two  among  the  great  trading  guilds  of  the  city.     The 

288 


COVENTRY   CHURCHES 

Cappers,  the  Dyers,  the  Mercers,  the  Drapers  and  the 
Smiths  had  also  their  part  in  these  outer  aisles.  The 
greater  part  of  the  church  is  of  the  Perpendicular  period 
and  is  due  to  the  local  family  of  Botoner,  who  expended 
their  substance  lavishly  upon  it — 

"William  and  Adam  Iniilt  the  Tower, 
Aiiiie  and  Mary  l)uilt  the  Spire  ; 
William  and  Adam  built  the  54ave 
And  Mary  built  the  C^Juire." 

So  ran  the  old  rhyme.  The  works  were  in  progress 
between  1373  and  1436. 

A  narrow  road  separates  St.  Michael's  from  Holy 
Trinity,  which,  although  in  itself  a  fine  Perpendicular 
building,  suffers  by  comparison  with  its  greater  neigh- 
bour. Here  also  the  guilds — the  Tanners,  Marlers, 
Butchers  and  others — exhibited  their  wealth  and  piety 
in  the  building  of  chapels ;  and  here  was  a  noble  stained - 
glass  fourteenth-century  window  containing  the  figures 
of  Leofric  and  Godiva,  with  the  inscription — 

"  3I  Jfuricbc  for  the  lofac  of  tlitr 
tlot  make  (llobentic  (Lol-frtc." 

Christ  Church  retains  only  its  ancient  spire,  the  ruined 
body  being  replaced  in  1829  by  a  work  in  the  most 
lamentable  style. 

Besides  its  churches,  Coventry  is  famed  for  its  ancient 
"  St.  Mary's  Hall,"  originally  the  hall  of  St.  Mary's 
Guild,  but  afterwards  serving  as  that  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  a  religious  society  which  amalgamated  and 
swallowed  up  St.  Mary's  and  many  others.  It  bccanie 
the  headquarters  of  the  old  municipal  life  of  Coventry, 
and  so  it  still  remains ;  a  noble  centre  for  the  city's 
business  and  hospitalities. 

Coventry  nowadays  is  remarkable  for  its  modern 
manufactures.  In  the  thirteenth  century  it  was  soap 
that  supported  the  city.  Later  it  was  prosperous  in 
u  289 


SUMMER   DAYS   IN    SHAKESPEARE   LAND 

the  making  of  woollen  fabrics,  needles  and  pins,  and 
famed  for  a  dye  known  as  "  Coventry  Blue."  As  time 
went  on,  silk-weaving  and  ribbon-making  took  promi- 
nence, and  doubtless  it  was  from  Coventry  that  the 
promised  "  fairing  "  was  to  have  come  that  is  mentioned 
in  the  old  ballad  of  that  faithless  Johnny  who  was  so 
long  at  the  fair — 

'^  He  promised  to  buy  me  a  fairing  to  please  me, 
A  bunch  of  blue  ribbons  he  promised  to  buy  me, 
To  tie  up  my  bonny  brown  hair." 

But  by  1869,  when  the  duty  on  foreign-made  silks  had 
been  removed,  the  silk  and  ribbon  trade  began  to 
decline,  and  the  enterprising  citizens  turned  to  the 
manufacture  of  sewing-machines.  Then  came  the 
velocipede,  the  bicycle,  and  the  motor-car.  In  the 
making  of  those  two  last-named  articles  and  in  that  of 
ordnance,  Coventry  has  found  its  fortune.  They  are 
not  Shakespearean  manifestations,  and  so  need  not  be 
enlarged  upon  in  this  place. 

In  spite  of  its  modern  growth,  Coventry  remains  a 
very  picturesque  city.  In  Butcher  Row,  and  in  narrow 
old  alleys  little  touched  by  modern  developments,  some- 
thing of  the  mediaeval  place  may  yet  be  traced ;  and  in 
those  two  charming  old  almshouses,  Bablake's  Hospital, 
founded  in  1506,  and  "  Ford's  Hospital,"  built  in  1529, 
half-timbered  work  is  seen  very  nearly  at  its  best. 


290 


INDEX 


Abbot's  Norton,  200 

Salford,  199 

Alcester,  2,  231 
Alderminster,  188 
Aiidoversford,  21G 
Arden,  Family  of,  9,  2.32-235 

,  Forest  of,  2,  7,  129 

,  Mary,  9,  232 

,  Robert,  9 

Ardens  Grafton,  loO 
Aston  Cantlow,  9,  235 
Atherstone-upon-Stour,  187 
Avon,  river,  2,  3,  45-48,  79.  190, 
210,  219,  240,  2(52,  265,  2(iG 

Baddeslev  Clinton,  7 

Balsall,  Thomas,  77,  98 

Banbury,  2,  18 

Barton,  147,  199 

Beauchamp  F'amilv,  the,  247-253 

255,  267 
Bicester,  18,  20 
Bidford,  58,  137,  147-153,  195 
liillesley,  12,  232 
Binton,  47,  147,  195 
Brailes,  191 
Broadway,  212-215 
Broom,  163 

Campden  ^Vonder,  the.  183-185 
Charlecote,  17,  47,  114-126 
Cliarles  the  Second,  14;3-146 
Chipping  Campden,  173-185 
Cleeve  Common,  218 

Priors,  199 

Clifford   Chambers,   10,   68,   166- 
169 


Clopton,  Family  of,  28,  72,  81-83, 
230 

,  House,  83,  230 

,  Lower,  173 

,  Sir  Hugli,  40,  63,  82 

,  I'pper,  173 

Combe,  John,  78,  98 

,  William,  134 

Compton  Wynvates,  191-194 
Cotswolds,  tiie^  215 
Coventry,  280-290 

Dancing       Marston       (or      Long 

Marston),  141-146 
Dingles,  the,  13;3-135 
Dorsington,  147 
Dudley,  Ambrose,    Earl  of  AVar- 

wick,  253,  275 
,    Robert,  Earl  of  Leicester, 

16,  241-243,  252,  27-3-275 

Ettington,  2,  186,  188-190 
Evesham,  137,  200-210 
Exhall,  158 

Feldon,  the,  2,  164,  191 
Frog  Mill,  216 

Gastrell,  Rev.  Francis,  73 

Gaveston,  Piers,  256-259 

Greet,  216,  217 

Grendon  I'nderwood,  18-21 

Gretton.  216,  217 

Grevel,  William,  176-178.  180 

,    or    Greville,    Family,   tiie, 

178,  245,  250,  254,  264  ' 
Guy  of  A\''arwick,  255,  26G 
Guv's  C;liff,  266 


291 


INDEX 


Hall,  Dr.  Joliii,  48,  72,  93,  97 
Harrington,  200 
Hartshorn,  216 
Hatha^vay,  Family  of,  12-15 

,  Anne,  7,  12-1.5,  101-113 

Henley-in-Arden,  2,  8,  235,  237 
Hicks,      Sir      Baptist,      Viscount 

("ampden,  178,  180 
Hillborougli,  147,  152-154 

John  of  Stratford,  75-77 

Kenil worth,  268-280 

Leek  "^Vootton,  267 

Long  Marston,  141-146,  169 

Lower  Clopton,  173 

Lucy  Family,  the,  47,  114-126 

,      Sir     Thomas      ("  Justice 

Shallow"),  17,  114-119,  124 
Luddington,  12,  47,  68,  147,  195 

Marlcliff,  199 

Marston  Sicca  (or  Long  Marston), 

141-146 
Mickleton,  173 

Newbold-on-Stour,  188,  190 

Oxford,  18 

Pebworth,  139-141 
Preston  Bagot,  237 
Preston-upon-Stour,  187 

Quiney,  Richard,  28-30,  33,  58 

,  Thomas,  33,  39 

Quinton,  169,  173,  234 

Ralph  of  Stratford,  75,  77 
Robert  of  Stratford,  75 
Rowington,  237 

Salford,  Abbot's,  199 

,  Prior's,  199 

Shakespeare,  Family  of,  6-11 

,  Edmund,  59 

,  Gilbert,  10,  58,  59 

= — ^  Hamnet,  22,  26 


Shakespeare,  Henry,  240 

,  Lsabel,  7 

,  Joan,  10,  52,  59 

,  John,   5,  8-11,    15-17,   22, 

26,  51,  59,  166 

,  Judith,  33,  39 

,  Richard,  7,  10,  59 

,  Susanna,  48,  52,  93,  97 

,  Thomas,  1,  237 

,  William,    5-7  ;    birth,     9  ; 

marriage,  11-15  ;  goes  to 
London,  16-21  ;  success  in  Lon- 
don, as  actor,  dramatist  and 
theatrical  manager,  23-26  ;  his 
return  to  Stratford-on-Avon, 
27-30 ;  purchases  New  Place, 
38  ;  he  retires,  31-33  ;  death, 
33  ;  scene  of  his  school-days, 
67-70 ;  his  residence.  New 
Place,  70-74  ;  the  Bacon  fana- 
tics and  Shakespeare,  85-91, 
94 ;  Shakespeare's  grave  and 
monument,  89-95;  Shakespeare, 
poacher  and  deer-stealer,  114- 
119;  Shakespeare  the  country- 
man, 127-135 

Farm,  Grendon  Underwood, 

20 

Hall,    Rowington,    7,    236, 

237 
Shipston-on-Stour,  186,  190 
Shirley,  F:velvn  Philip,  188-190 
Shottery,  12,'l5,  101-113 
Snittertield,  7,  8,  9,  11,  49,  238- 

240 
Southampton,  Heiny  Wriothesley, 

Earl  of,  17,  30 
Stinchcombe  Hill,  217 
Stratford-on-Avon,  1-5,  8-11,  26- 

100 
,  American  Memorial  Foun- 
tain, 43 

,  Bridge  Street,  39 

,  Chapel,  63,  75 

,  Clopton  Bridge,  3,  40,  45, 

164 

,  Grammar  School,  5,  15,  67- 

70 

,  Guild,  the,  4,  60-67 

292 


INDEX 


Stratford-oii-Avon,  Harvanl  House, 

37,  41-43 
— — ,   Holy  Trinity   Church,    13, 

20,  75-100 

,  Mason  Croft,  fiO 

,  Memorial  Theatre,  44 

,  Mop  Fair,  37 

,  Nash's  House,  39,  72,  73,  74 

,  New  Place,  28,  31-33,  70- 

74,  84,  101 

,  Old  Stratford,  3,  48,  72 

,  Red  Horse  Hotel,  40,  43 

,  Rother  Street,  3,  43,  101 

,  Shakespeare  Hotel,  34,  43 

,  Shakespeare's     Birth-place, 

49-59,  110,  231 
Sudeley,  216,  217 
Sunrising  Hill,  2,  18,  18(5 

Temple  Grafton,  12,  13,  154-15G 
Tewkesbury,  21(5,  219-229 
Tomes,  John,  143-14G 

Upper  Clopton,  173 


248- 


241- 


AVarwick,  240,  20.5 

,    Beaucliamp    Cliapel, 

253 

,  Castle,  254-265 

,  P:arls  of,  247,  240-265 

.    Leicester's   Hospital, 

2-15 

,  St.  Mary's  Church,  245-253 

,  Westgate,  240 

Welcombe,  98,  133-135,  235,  238 

^\'elford,  147,  195-197 

AVeston-on-Avon,  147,  197 

Whitchurch,  188 

AVhittington,  216 

^V'ilmcote,  9,  232-235 

Winchcombe,  215 

Wincot,  169,  234 

Wixford,  160 

Woncot,  217 

Woodmancote,  217 

Wooland,  the,  2 

Wootton  AVawcn,  235 

M^riothesley,      Henry,      I*larl     of 

Southampton,  17,  30 


Richard  Clay  &  Sons,  Limited, 

brunswick  street,  stamford  street,  s.e. 

and  bungay,  suffolk. 


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